The Story of Dumbledore
by smokycottage2008
Summary: A romance involving the young Dumbledore and an unusual young woman attending Hogwarts - written before Deathly Hallows. Involves explanation as to why Dumbledore was apparently single. I apologize for no strong chapter breaks.
1. Chapter 1

1 "We've been ecstatic ever since you have accepted the position," Professor Dippet said, regarding the young man before him who was taller by just a couple inches. "The ministry offices too dull for you eh?"

"Just a bit," the young man replied, his light blue eyes looking out over the Hogwarts grounds. "How soon do you wish me to start?"

"Immediately of course. Professor Treacle is obviously wanting a retirement after that horrible accident," the Headmaster shook his head and stood next to the man at the wide window.

"How is she?"

"Well once St. Mungo's is able to remove those extra heads she should be right as rain. However, she already spent quite some time in my office begging for a slightly early retirement. It was rather hard to look at all six heads at once you know," Professor Dippet sighed.

"I can imagine," the young man said, his mouth curling in a slight smile.

"So anyway, the Transfiguration room is obviously open for your use and you may move in as soon as possible."

"I am sincerely grateful Headmaster, I am sure many have competed for this position."

"Nonsense, those who applied only asked for short-term contracts. Most were old enough to be Headmasters themselves. And besides, you were Head Boy four years ago, first in your class, not to mention _excellent_ grades in Transfiguration. I'm sure this will be nothing for you after that office." Dippet clouted the man on the shoulder.

"Anything was better than that office, Professor."

"Really? After being appointed assistant to the Minister and all? You could have easily moved up in the ranks you know. Could have been Minister yourself some day, and now you'd prefer to be a teacher?"

"I like Hogwarts, and I like teaching. The Ministry could offer nothing but stacks of paperwork and tedious complaints," the man replied heavily.

"Ha ha! Well done Dumbledore! Starting at twenty one years old you'll be a stingy professor the rest of your life like the rest of us here!" the man laughed. "Ah, well, I am grateful to you anyway, even if you possess staggeringly more potential than that of a simple school professor."

"Thank you Headmaster."

"Shall I have some of the house elves come and fetch your things?"

"I'll carry it myself thanks."

"Is that all you have? Just the one trunk?"

"I'm afraid so."

The two men said their goodbyes and Dumbledore took up his lonely trunk and brought it up to the Transfiguration room in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He found the room at the back previously occupied by Professor Treacle. It was small but very adequate for his purposes he decided with a curt nod. He was only after all, sleeping there. The office was very clean and he found several stacks of fresh parchment and ink stored in a cabinet, and quills in the desk drawer. Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and slumped down at the desk, looking out at the front gate of Hogwarts.

Soon the students would arrive, tomorrow night in fact. He remembered so clearly his years at Hogwarts, arriving on the shiny red and black Hogwarts Express, always anticipating his new classes each term. The studying came so easily for him, he hardly had to try. This left him a chance to make many friends and become rather popular. Many of his teachers wondered why none of it went to his head, and soon found out that he was much too smart for that. Despite his high rank he always helped those unfortunate students who wore spectacles or were socially clumsy who were otherwise subject to ridicule. The professors were so relieved to have Dumbledore around; the bullying rates went down tremendously. The boy had been a natural leader and a peer for positive influence.

Dumbledore to this day still could not understand what all the fuss was about him. He was a pretty simple person, odd at times to be sure, but certainly he did not think himself special. He had great talents he knew, after passing all his NEWTs with excellent scores. In fact, everything about him was ridiculously perfect. Except perhaps that both his parents were deceased, both killed by some great magical experiment his father had decided to perform. He and his insane younger brother lived with their grandparents, both wizards and both intolerant of imperfection. When Dumbledore and his brother came to live with them they immediately pressured Dumbledore in school, sending him letters by owl every week demanding good grades, not that that was a problem of course. But his younger brother did have problems…well …to be frank Dumbledore often described him as "quite batty."

After his brother was sent to live at St. Mungo's after his grandparents decided him unfit to live in their household, Dumbledore secluded himself every night in his room to avoid their constant nagging. He had been getting at least Acceptables in every subject throughout his seven years at Hogwarts. He could simply not understand why they were being so strict. When finally they passed away but a year and a half ago, after finally being satisfied that Dumbledore was working with the Ministry, Dumbledore felt free and his younger brother was finally released. He had heard no word from him since then, but he sincerely hoped that he was getting along nicely now.

Albus Dumbledore finally rose from his desk, from his reverie, and prepared to go down to dinner as the sun was setting. It was odd that the sun was setting right at the moment when he had started a new beginning.

The next day Dumbledore woke and began preparing his lessons soon after breakfast. Following lunch he went to walk the grounds, occasionally observing the ancient squid enjoying some warm afternoon rays of sunlight before the crispness of fall descended. Once the sun set he went inside to await the arrival of the students. He took his place at the head table and sat silently, nodding to each professor in greeting.

Candles flickered brilliantly as they floated high above the house tables. He could clearly remember his first house Sorting, and how the Sorting hat had laughed in his ear telling him that with his personality he should be in Hufflepuff, but with his brilliance he belonged in Griffindor and so with a haughty sniff the Sorting hat placed him in that house. Dumbledore found it rather exciting to see the students be sorted right in front of him; he had never seen the view from the head table before.

After what seemed like ages the students began to spill into the hall, bringing with them their loud and excited voices that bounced off of the vaulted ceiling and broke the silence surrounding Hogwarts. Dumbledore could not even blink as he observed these students; why, the oldest students were only four years younger than him. That ever-present feeling of doubt was harder to suppress this time, but Dumbledore knew he could teach and teach well. It did not matter how close his students were in age to him.

When the students were relatively settled, Professor Drat, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, opened the great doors and led the shivering group of first-years into the hall. Dumbledore could not help but smile at their discomfort. First-years did not know about the Sorting ceremony, and most likely were imagining having to pass violent or painful trials in order to get into their respective houses. Professor Drat stood before the head table next to the stool with the ancient, moldy, and torn Sorting hat on the platform and began to read out their names in order as soon as the hat finished its yearly song, which oddly Dumbledore could not manage to pay attention to.

"Audrey, Amanda." Professor Drat placed the Sorting hat on the little blonde girl's head.

Dumbledore could not help but feel uncomfortable for a moment. He felt like he was being watched, but not only being looked at…but also being thoroughly examined. Like his thoughts were being sifted through as well…

"Ravenclaw!" shouted the Sorting hat.

This was so odd. He could feel something like the lightest, warmest breeze passing over his robes, touching his flesh lightly underneath. When he felt it touch his right cheek ever so lightly he averted his eyes to scan in that direction.

"Bateman, Christopher."

No one by the Ravenclaw table was looking in his direction…but over at the Griffindor table there was a seventh-year girl just barely turning from him, straightening herself up in order to appear to be paying attention. He knew that maneuver all too well, after seeing students jerk to attention in class once they were called upon to answer a question. So, this girl was watching him? Yes, she was, he could see a light blush appear on her very white cheeks as she faced the Sorting. Unfortunately he could not see her full face as she was turned slightly away. She must be a witch of some significant power, to probe at him like that without a trace of a spell.

Something was pulling at the back of his mind. Though he could not see her face he could see the back of her head from which streamed endless curled tendrils of darkest brown hair. It was like dark polished wood. He had seen her before; he knew he must have. Glimpses in the hallways at Hogwarts had sometimes revealed a small girl with those same long tendrils of hair. He thought once he had actually seen her face, but the image was so fantastical that he soon dismissed it as his imagination. No girl he had ever seen in his life was so flawlessly beautiful.

However, at this moment he was not so ready to dismiss his imagination. She was here, that same girl. If only she could turn her head…and then suddenly as if she sensed his thoughts she pivoted on her chair and looked straight at Dumbledore. The young man felt his heart catch in his throat. It was only for a moment for her modesty was too much for her and she quickly averted her face again, but it was enough. Dumbledore wondered why none of the other students around her noticed…but no, just as he was trying to figure that out he _did_ notice that all the boys, even some of the newly Sorted first-years, were gazing at her with glazed eyes.

She could not be a Veela…Veela had white-blond hair and blue eyes. This girl had emerald eyes and then dark hair. Her skin was ever so white, yet he knew she was not a vampire for she wasn't _that_ pale and her lips were not blood red. All that he could guess was that she was not completely human for her beauty was too unreal. Every woman he knew had some small flaw about their face, a long nose or overlarge eyes… But this girl was too perfect in stature and face to be natural.

When the sorting was finally over there appeared platters upon platters of succulent dishes as always at a Hogwarts Feast. Despite Dumbledore's fluttering stomach he managed to load his plate with several chicken wings, potatoes, squash, and then helped himself to Yorkshire pudding. Over his golden plate he could see the girl delicately poised over her plate, nibbling at a drumstick. Very few of her companions were speaking to her, they were looking rather put out about something. He guessed it was the way this girl drew all male attention towards her. She did not seem concerned about it at all; perhaps she was quite used to it by now in her seventh year.

She had to be in her seventh year, she was tall and lithe with enough curvature to suggest late teenage years. And she seemed wise. Dumbledore could not think of how he came up with that adjective, but she seemed to reflect such an air of maturity and knowledge about her that she could not help but seem wise. He was quite glad that he was head of Griffindor House now more than ever. This girl would be under his wing all year. He would have to check his schedule tomorrow morning to see when he had the seventh years for Transfiguration. All too soon the feast was over, and Professor Dippet stood to make some start of term announcements.

"I welcome you all to Hogwarts for another delightful year. I do hope that N.E.W.T.'s and O.W.L.'s are up to standard this year, so I expect all of you to work very hard because even if you are not taking a standard test this year you are always preparing for either one or the other anyway by participating in class.

"Also, I am pleased to announce that Professor Treacle has managed to retain her original head after our Transfiguration department disaster last term…" he paused as a few students repressed giggles and he stared them down until they subsided. "Ahem…yes, and sadly she will not be returning this year or any year after since she has decided to retire. It is my pleasure, despite this sad news, to introduce our new Transfiguration teacher, Professor Albus Dumbledore."

At this the students broke into polite applause as Dumbledore stood and gave a short bow, quickly sitting back down again. He again felt that girl's eyes on him, boring into him intensely. Why was she so focused on him? Dumbledore glanced quickly around the great hall, only to see dozens of female eyes searching him out. Ah… He had had such difficulties at the Ministry. Many young witches tended to stop by his little office for more than business talk. Well perhaps this girl was as silly as the rest of them, and he spent the rest of the evening trying to block her out of his mind.

Finally the hall was dismissed and Dumbledore traveled quite a ways away from the disappearing students. He did not want to run into groups of chattering silly girls. After a few moments they passed on and he made his way slowly up the grand staircase to the upper levels. He would like to say a few words to Professor Dippet before he turned in. A lone figure preceded him in the hallway on the second floor. A flickering torch highlighted a maturing female figure. It was that girl. She turned around at hearing his footsteps and for a long moment the both of them simply stared at each other. Finally it was Dumbledore's professional self that took over.

"I suggest you hurry along now Miss…"

"Paige, sir," she replied in a soft melodic tone.

"Miss Paige then…I suggest you had better hurry off to your dormitories now. It's Griffindor isn't it? Yes well, still, I do not wish to catch you still lingering up to your tower when I come back from Professor Dippet's office. Then I am afraid I would have to exercise some rather strict disciplinary action. Or else you'll run into Peeves which of course could be just as grievous." He afforded her a small wink and a smile, not able to help himself.

"I understand sir," she replied, her voice a bit firmer now. "I only wished to avoid a crowded common room. I am rather tired and simply wished to go straight to bed without any…" she paused and looked at him apologetically.

"I assume you are not that popular among your classmates," Dumbledore said sympathetically, stepping a bit closer. That proved to be a mistake because she looked all the more becoming up close, with her emerald eyes shining in the torchlight and the shadows outlining the delicate curves of her face.

"Well on the contrary I am very popular…" she replied, taking a slight step back. "I seem to attract," and she winced on that word, "I seem to attract a lot of attention, but tonight I decided to relieve some of that. Since they should be well ahead of me now, I will hurry along." The girl nodded courteously and turned on her heel to retreat down the hall and up the stairs to Griffindor Tower.

"Well goodnight then Miss Paige," Dumbledore called after her, and she replied down the hall with a faint 'goodnight' as well. It took a moment for him to recover and he had to physically shake himself to get over that apparition of a girl. She obviously knew of her power, and how she literally could attract anyone to her. For a girl he supposed that should be a blessing, but after a moment realized that for this girl it had become a curse. Who would want every male creature in the vicinity mooning over her and every girl hating her for jealousy? Who would see her as a valuable human being, if that were what she was, with such a strong personality if they could not get over her looks and powerful magnetism?

With a sigh he retreated back down the staircase, having dismissed his wanted discussion with Dippet as trivial now and as something that could wait for the following day.

The next morning over his eggs and bacon Dumbledore sifted through his teaching schedule. He did not have seventh years until the afternoon. Well that was fortunate, for he would need a couple of good classes to make him feel comfortable addressing the older seventh years. He had first years this morning, and then third years right after lunch. The seventh year class was the last class of the day. Tentatively he glanced up at the Griffindor table and located that Miss Paige. This morning she was paying him no heed, though she seemed very disturbed about something and seemed very aloof from her classmates. She was stirring a bowl of porridge but not eating.

The first years were easily dealt with, they were so shy and lost on their first day that they easily paid attention to him and by the end of the class he was their favorite teacher what with his welcoming smiles and odd sense of humor. At lunch he tucked into a bowl of stew feeling very energetic and enthusiastic about his situation. The office in the ministry had been so dull. Yes he was close to rising in the ranks but there was no one there who could appreciate his humor or energy. He had always loved Hogwarts, loved learning, and now he loved teaching. This was where he belonged surely.

Out of new habit he glanced up at the Griffindor table just in time to see Miss Paige avert her gaze. He would have found this amusing had not her gaze been so troubled. He felt renewed sympathy for her. Did no one understand her? She must realize that she was not all human, could not anyone else realize that too and simply befriend her for who or what she was? His lunch did not settle well in his stomach from then on, and his lesson for the third years was not as energetic as he had hoped.

But by the time the seventh year class began to filter into his classroom he had gathered himself. He stood by the door and greeted students and asked them to please be seated. When Miss Paige passed him with obvious reluctance he said quietly, "I trust you found your way safely, Miss Paige – no run in with the caretaker Mr. Grupp _or_ Peeves?"

She seemed caught off guard at his speaking to her. "Uh…no Professor, I made it back quietly enough."

"I am relived. It would have been very discouraging to discipline a student on my first day you know," Dumbledore said winking lightly at her as she moved on. To his relief she took a seat at the back of the room; it would save him from unwanted distraction for today she had her hair tied back elegantly, showing more of her lovely face.

Dumbledore strode purposefully to the front of the classroom and called the attention of the students. "I hope you have had a lovely day so far," he said in a jovial voice. "I hope you have loads and loads of homework so you can be broken in right away after a summer of your minds melting and becoming quite useless… Transfiguration is one of my favorite subjects and I intend to teach you the best I can. Anyhow, we shall get straight to work. I am certain you have heard enough lectures for today.

"Today's assignment will be to transfigure a snake into three different similar shaped objects, such as a ribbon or rope. You know the incantation from your previous year here. I'd like you to go ahead and transfigure them, and then for tonight write an explanation of how you performed your transfigurations." He turned to the chalkboard and bewitched a piece of chalk with his wand to write those instructions on the board. "Very well then, Mr. Brown will you be so kind as to distribute the harmless garden snakes?" Dumbledore added, hoping to calm the nerves of some wide-eyed girls in the front rows.

He turned to his desk and riffled through the attendance sheets to find this class. He really should learn the names as quickly as possible; he would work on that tonight before bed. Miss Paige's first name, he noted, was Abigail. Very pretty name he mused to himself. Dumbledore stole a quick glance to the back of the room where the girl was trying to hold her snake to keep it from slithering off her desk. He noted that the rest of the class was having such difficulty.

"A simple spell will freeze your snake long enough-"

"_Immobilous_!" a few students said before Dumbledore could finish. A bright lot this class was he noticed.

"Five points to those who figured that one out," he said cheerfully, and began walking around the classroom offering advice and encouragement to those who needed it.

By the time the bell rang everyone looked rather weary and slung their schoolbags over their shoulders for a quick departure. They were most likely craving dinner as badly as Dumbledore was. Sighing, he plopped down at his desk, flipping through his Transfiguration textbook to check on tomorrow's lesson for the fifth years and make sure that was completely prepared. He felt suddenly warm, like a hot breeze had passed over his head. He looked up.

"Ah, Miss Paige. What can I do for you?" he asked the tall girl. She was looking at him concernedly.

"Sir, I…" she paused, as if trying to loosen her tongue. Her eyes were searching his frantically. He waited very patiently; he could stare at her for ages… "Sir, I was hoping you would be willing to help me with something…if it will not be too much of a bother," she said quickly.

"Certainly, that is what I am here for. Is it something with today's lesson? If you are having trouble I will not be upset, I would be happy to help. We can schedule some times for practice-"

"No sir, it isn't the lesson… It is more…uh…personal than that," she stammered. Her cheeks began to flush a bit. She closed her eyes for a moment and then plunged on. "Sir I was raised my entire life in an orphanage. I never knew my parents. I have no idea where I came from. Sir, you as well as everyone else at this school _must_ have noticed that I am…well…"

"Unique?" Dumbledore suggested, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He leaned forward and propped his hands under his chin to look up at her.

"Exactly, and well…I was hoping someone could foster my search… You know, to see if they recognized any strange powers in me and who could help me find out who or…even what I am…" she finished, slightly breathless. She looked at him imploringly for a moment and then continued hastily when he did not reply, "Professor, if it would inconvenience you in any way you have every right to refuse. I would not dare to trespass on your time; perhaps I could go to the Care of Magical Creatures teacher-"

"You are no creature, Miss Paige. Or may I call you Abigail?" Dumbledore interrupted. She nodded. "You clearly have some odd power about you, I detected it right away." At this the girl gave a small gasp. "For the life of me I have no idea where such power comes from. You are not part vampire?"

"Oh no sir…I have none of those symptoms, which is very fortunate or else I wouldn't be allowed at Hogwarts," she replied. "These powers, as you call them, have been increasing every year I've been here… I simply do not know what to do, sir, I cannot be near anyone!" She threw her hands up in exasperation.

"I have noticed that," Dumbledore said, leaning back and looking away from her.

"Sir, I am afraid I've affected you too. I knew I would even though I can't help it! But somehow I've gained confidence in you, somehow I know you are the one who can help me," Abigail said pleadingly. He looked back at her, trying harder than ever to reach beyond such suffocating beauty on her outside.

"I would be pleased to help you Abigail. I do not have homework to correct until this weekend, but I can put a little bit of time aside every day to search the library. The first time I saw you I knew you couldn't be all human," she nodded at that affirmation, "and you do not have the complexion for a Veela."

"Yet my powers of…attraction…seem much more powerful than that," the girl said with vehemence. "I cannot even walk down the hallways without attracting every boy I come across. It was not this bad while I was younger, Professor. I do not understand. Could someone have slipped a love potion into my goblet last year? Are the effects of it permanent?" she ranted, bringing her hands to her plait and twisting it round her wrist. The action was very childish and endearing and almost left Dumbledore lost for words.

"Do not worry, Abigail, I promise I will help you. But I do not want you falling behind in your studies through your efforts to find out the truth," he said, sounding like a true teacher. Hopefully it would make him seem less obviously infatuated with her. She suddenly turned to him then, letting go of her plait.

"I am working it on you aren't I?" she said, hysteria on the verge of entering her voice. "You along with everyone else…"

"Yes I will admit to that Miss Paige," Dumbledore said with some strength to his voice to overcome her panic. "But only a fool would try to manipulate me. I am a verified Legitamens and was the top of my class at Hogwarts. I know of many powers, and although this one is rather different it also cannot elude me. You _are_ in truth a very beautiful young lady," he admitted, but continued through her blush, "but that must come from your origins whether they be vampire or Veela or something else along with your power to attract and read minds."

"Oh sir, I cannot read minds. I have only noticed that I can send out a little bit of my…power…to probe a person's emotional state. I can also sense a little bit of personality, which is why I found you to be trustworthy and possibly willing to help me," Abigail said, looking down at her feet.

"So that was what it was…" Dumbledore said, standing up. "I felt something…"

"That has never happened before," Abigail gasped.

"What?"

"No one has ever noticed my…probing before."

Dumbledore laughed. "Well there you see… You should have full confidence in me. No power eludes me. Now, you had better hurry along to dinner while I finish up here. I promise by the end of this year we'll both figure this dilemma out."

Dumbledore did not have time to fulfill his promise until the weekend. Until then he had many papers to correct and lessons to prepare. He also wanted to enjoy the waning fall days before the winter took over, so he would take his studies outside which took him longer to fulfill since he was often distracted. Abigail apparently shared his feelings about the weather and decided to study outside as well. Her spot was by the shore of the lake so she could dip her feet in the chilly water and spread her homework out on her lap. Dumbledore hated having to leave her presence but he couldn't concentrate otherwise, so he chose a spot much farther away.

During the weekend it rained, so he had nothing better to do but go to the library and take out books that might help: "Veelas, Vampires, and Vice," "Properties of Love Potions," "Creatures from Beyond", and "Beautiful but Deadly." None of these books helped him much; they only reaffirmed his first opinions that the girl was not a Veela or vampire relation. There were Harpies, but they were ugly, and there were Sirens, but they were a special kind of mermaid. He was just pulling out "Curses by Beautiful Women: Always Happens Doesn't It?" when Abigail burst into his aisle.

"Professor!" she choked, panting hard.

"What is it Abigail? I was just looking for some clues…" Dumbledore stopped when he saw her face. She was truly panicked.

"Sir, I…" she paused as she caught her breath. "Sir I was in the green house just now, helping Professor Green plant some bulbs. They were Manflowers sir, the kind that has to be planted right away… Well once I put one in the soil it instantly grew at my fingertips…it simply grew to it's full adult stature sir…and then, then it _bowed_ to me!" she paused to let that odd statement sink in, then she tried to back it up, "I know it seems odd that a plant would bow, but seeing as it was a Manflower with some human characteristics and all…it took it's two side leaves like arms and tucked them in…then it dipped its great head at me. Professor Green and I don't know what to make of it! It takes three to four years for those plants to grow! And just by my touching it…it grew! And not only that – every plant in the room leaned towards me…flowers bloomed again even though they were long since wilted!" Abigail had to stop for breath.

Dumbledore did not know what to make of it. What sort of creature had powers like that? So in touch with nature…and so beautiful… Something tugged at the back of his memory, something from years ago when he was fading in and out of his boring History of Magic class…

"Sir?" the girl interrupted.

"I'm thinking," he replied, and put the book back on its shelf. Any girl who could make plants grow and succumb to her could not be capable of evil curses. What sort of woman…? Not a dryad, for the girl looked nothing like a tree. Could it be? Dumbledore strode away from the girl, leaving her in the aisle for a moment before she thought to follow. He walked all the way down the aisles to an old set of books sitting on a shelf labeled "Ancient Creatures of Old."

"What do you suspect…" began Abigail behind him. "Professor?"

"I remembered something from a long time ago…ah, here!" exclaimed Dumbledore as he drew out a heavy volume. It was labeled "Folk of the Fae."

"Fairies?" Abigail exclaimed. "Aren't they a bit too small to have been part of my heritage?"

"I'm referring to human-sized fairies, ones that are much more powerful than the hand-sized ones. Here," he said as he found a page. He held it up for Abigail to see. There was an old, faded illustration of a lithe woman with curling locks spilling over her shoulders. Her skin was fair, her eyes were emerald green, but her hair was a flaxen gold. Dumbledore then flipped through the pages, his crisp blue eyes scanning each page. "Powers of desirability, drawing man and creature to them with an alluring magnetism…" he read aloud, "a sorceress of nature with psychological powers to read emotions, control, manipulate or destroy…" he paused.

"That sounds close enough," Abigail said, putting her hand on his arm to forestall him. "May I take that book out? I'd like to read it through thoroughly."

Dumbledore's heart leapt at her contract, even though he could only just feel her fingers through the cloth of his robes. He looked into her saddening gaze.

"You do not feel as though…you have been manipulated into searching for me?" she asked him.

"I told you already, Abbie, though I can feel your power it does and will not control me, at least not without my consent," he said softly. He did not know what he was saying… They were alone for now in a dim aisle, and the intimacy of the situation was working on him.

"Apparently such power controlled one of my parents…" she responded quietly, her eyes deepening in sadness.

"Unless their union was a mutual agreement, and as to that I don't think we'll ever know, so I would not concern yourself about it," Dumbledore said patiently. "If you wish…" he paused, "If you wish we could read this together and discuss it thoroughly. I have a great knowledge of ancient powers; they fascinated me while I was at Hogwarts, in my free time I would always read up on them. I think I may be of help."

"I know you will," the girl replied, smiling and gripping his arm more firmly. Then she suddenly realized her action, blushed, and took her hand away. He pretended to ignore her action.

"You must not be all fairy though," Dumbledore continued, scanning the rest of the page. "Your powers did not arrive until just recently. Fairy children have this power in abundance, even subjecting old men to their will. You must be half-fairy, perhaps even more."

"Professor let us go sit down somewhere, it is ludicrous trying to read that ancient print in this dim light," Abigail suggested, reaching up a hand to pull him away. For the rest of that afternoon they sat in one of the more deserted places in the library next to an especially grimy window. Abigail excused herself for a moment and then came back with a lamp. Dumbledore smiled to himself on that account; she was so attentive. She was shy about sitting next to him, but when the reading became interesting they both leaned together closer over the ancient script.

Apparently a fairy could be either a man or a woman, though male fairies were rare. Their powers were what Abigail herself possessed, that of attracting every living thing to her and being able to detect emotional temperaments and even deeper psychological thinking within a person. Fairy children were born from special flowers and instantly grew to a human infant size. Though this occasion was very rare for fairies were hardly very fertile. They could cross-mate with humans and in that case a child was born in the human fashion. Miniature fairies were created when a full-grown fairy died; its body could split into a thousand pieces that formed into tiny people with wings. However, a fairy never died…

"Oh dear!" Abigail exclaimed on that part. "Immortality…"

"Unless the fairy decides to expire…in which case the smaller fairies take its place…" Dumbledore read. "Even if it wishes to expire it cannot at least until it has reached four thousand years of age… I wonder how they figured that out," Dumbedore` laughed. Abigail did not think it was so amusing; she looked at him with something akin to fear in her expression.

"To live forever? Four thousand years might as well be forever… Everything I know, every_one_ I know…to die before my eyes while I remain young?" Abigail said softly, her eyes unfocused.

"Now, Abigail, really. It is not so bad a thing I am sure. Think of how much you could do in that amount of time. Besides, some part of you is human, however small, and you may not be eligible to live that long because that part of you is mortal."

"But who could really know that?" she said doubtfully. She brought her slender white hands to her face, hiding it for once from him. In that split second he could not stand her face being hidden from him. It was as though she were truly disappearing. Almost frantically he reached out and pulled her hands away.

"My dear, you must be strong. You are especially gifted with these powers for a reason. For now your path is of your own choosing. And with so much time, there will be many paths to choose, but you have the time and the power to choose wisely. Many of us will never have that opportunity," he said soothingly. She looked up at him, a trifle confused as to what he was talking about, but she remembered it anyway. "For now though, can you at least constrict your thoughts of the future to the present? It is about dinnertime now and I cannot possibly sift through this without a full stomach."

She nodded in agreement and he handed her the volume to check out with the librarian. He had a powerful inclination that he should offer to escort her to dinner, but that was ridiculous, she being one of his students. So he bade her goodnight if he did not bump into her after dinner and she gave him a smile that warmed him all over. And he was sure that that was not the effects of her power; this had felt more real and sincere.

Two months passed and Dumbledore kept busy, though he did wish now and again that he had an excuse to seek out Abigail's company. She did not ask for his help again, but he knew that she kept that book with her. It was all too fast; their chance meeting and that little excursion to find out her connections. He realized that she could have easily sifted through all those books in the library and eventually come across the Fae book, granted it would have taken much longer, but still she was entirely capable. Perhaps it was her panic that encouraged her to seek help, or it could have been her particular interest in him. Granted he was young, and he supposed relatively attractive…still she was seeking almost forbidden attention from a professor, if that was her inclination at all. She could just be a silly girl, fairy all the same, frantic about her lineage. Yet he had not contrived that opinion of her at all.

The classes they shared together were interesting to say the least. The seventh years were preparing for their N.E.W.T.'s with vigor, even though the tests were not given until the end of the year. He found excuses every now and then to walk around Abigail's area of the room, and he often caught her glancing at him – but then, by trying to catch her he was glancing _back _just as often.

After one particularly trying day with the sixth years, who had decided to have more fun in class by rolling around the hedgehogs they were supposed to be transfiguring into rubber balls, he collapsed in bed without even bothering to read himself to sleep. Dumbledore felt especially tired for some reason…perhaps because it was a Friday night and he had a week's worth of strain working on him. He fell asleep quickly and he knew it was a dreamless kind of sleep, which was why he was so startled to hear singing. But he was hearing it for real; it was not a dream. Groggily he pulled himself out of bed, hoping that Peeves had not managed to poke his way into Dumbledore's classroom.

The singing continued high-pitched and unearthly and yet refined and beautiful. A light was disappearing down the corridor when Dumbledore looked out his classroom door. Rubbing sleep from his eyes he darted back to his room to shove his feet into shoes and don his robe, shoving his wand into its pocket. By the time he reached the corridor the light was a faint glimmer as it had retreated further down the hall. He carefully pursued it. When he reached the entrance hall he saw that within the great light was the figure of a woman, who was easily opening the front doors enough so that she could slip through. When Dumbledore noticed that they were closing right after her he immediately chased after and slipped through before the doors shut behind him.

He let the girl walk a ways ahead of him for safety, even though he had a good guess as to who she was. He could not understand why she was glowing, or why he felt so lightheaded as he had approached her, or why he felt warm and almost carefree and happy. They headed towards the Forbidden Forest where many magical creatures took up residence. Students were forbidden to enter it, as it had many dangers that even the most capable students could not cope with.

Abigail entered the wall of trees and only illuminated the area around her. She continued to press on, as if she knew a path though Dumbedore noticed that there was none to follow. It was even more dangerous if one did not follow the paths in the Forbidden Forest. They pressed on for what seemed like an hour, before finally, Dumbledore could not see her light anymore. He began to panic, and the feeling of euphoria began to disappear. It was completely dark, so he reached for his wand and lit it. What was he doing out here? Was he mad to be out here alone in his just his robe?

He heard a faint sound, which gradually picked up a melody and became an unearthly singing voice. In the distance to his left he could see a faint light. How had she disappeared so fast and gone so far? Nevertheless he followed it, and after stumbling and bruising himself even more he finally broke into a clearing. It was as bright as day in that clearing, and nearly every creature was there – from centaurs and unicorns all the way down to birds and squirrels. Abigail was radiant in her white nightgown and cascading hair. She was talking to a group of centaurs that were pawing the ground almost impatiently yet awarding her with their full attention. After this interview they disappeared, trotting elegantly from the meadow. Unicorns nuzzled at her outstretched hands and birds flitted about her head. He could also see some groups of winged little people…

Dumbledore had by now fully entered the meadow and at his entrance all creatures seemed to turn to him. Abigail withdrew her hand from a unicorn colt and walked slowly towards him. Again the feeling of euphoria overpowered him, only this time it was even more so as he saw the girl's face growing ever closer. He felt warm and lightheaded, and wanted nothing more than to be the object of attention to this young woman. She reached out a hand and stroked his cheek, finally closing the distance between them.

"Albus," she said, her voice musical and soft…even loving. Dumbledore took hold of the wrist against his cheek and brought it down and towards him, pulling her forward. Her emerald eyes were misty, her cheeks bright red…perhaps these ought to have warned him but he was so far gone in her spell to stop it. He felt his heart beating fast and her breath came on his lips in time with each beat. It was so easy, she fit right against him and all he had to do was lower his head… He brought his arms around her, though one drifted up to her hair, the other pressed against the curve of waist and hip. She brought her own hands to caress his face and hair while all the while they kissed softly. Just when Dumbledore pressed her closer she broke away only to clasp him to her in an embrace. She started to cry into his shoulder…and the light began to fade as quickly as if one were drawing the curtains…

Dumbledore awoke in his bed with a start, his mind flashing back to whatever had just happened. He was entangled in bed sheets and he was in an ice cold sweat. He waved his hand and his night lamp lit itself. Immediately he heard a gasp and realized he was not alone. Abigail stood above him, her eyes wide with sheer terror. Dumbledore sat up and seized her arm before she could move.

"What happened? What were you doing?" he said loudly, and was surprised to hear the terror and panic reverberating in his voice.

Abigail was sobbing, "I didn't want to do it…it was evil of me…it was like I was seducing you – and I nearly did! You can tell Professor Dippet if you want, you have every right to! I was overcome… I finally realized the strength of my power and how you could barely fight it…then I panicked and put you to sleep, and brought you back here with the aid of your wand…" and she pointed to his wand on his dresser where she had evidently returned it.

"But what were you doing? The meadow, the centaurs…" Dumbledore asked, trying to control his voice. Her face also calmed down a bit and he could not help thinking how lovely she looked…

"I summoned them… Fairies can do that… I wanted them to see how much human blood I had in me, so I could assess just how much fairy magic I possessed…" her voice trailed off. When he did not reply she hurried on, "Foolish of me really, selfish too. But I felt invincible…I somehow knew how to perform fairy summoning magic. Oh, I am a complete dolt!" she exclaimed, turning away from him. "I shouldn't have; I only fleetingly wanted your presence and apparently it was powerful enough to bring you straight to me…" The girl hugged herself and went to the window.

Dumbledore was speechless. He didn't know whether to punish her as severely as he knew he should, or to be flattered and let the matter slide. But she was standing there so vulnerable, trying to gather what courage she could muster. He kicked away the sheets she had been trying to cover him with and stood up. She turned around to face him and seemed to be trying not to run away from him.

"Granted, I will have to punish you – as it is my duty," Dumbledore said quietly, folding his arms and turning away from her slightly so that her influence would not interfere with his resolve. "You _were_ out of bed in the middle of the night, and that at least will award you a detention…and perhaps twenty points from Griffindor." As he said this he knew that the Griffindor hourglass in the entrance hall was emptying itself of twenty rubies. "As to everything else that happened…" and here he paused and ran a distracted hand through his hair. He was not sure if he wanted to discuss that kiss, but he decided to get it over with. "Well… That must have been partially my fault as well. I must have given in to some degree to your…well…wanton ability or else you would have seen me in an effort to resist."

Fresh tears ran down the girls face as she continued to stare at him. "I am so sorry…" she began, raising her hands to her face helplessly.

"Enough now, Abbie. It is in your nature to be like that…and your power was stronger because you were actively using fairy magic. There was no harm done."

"But there _could_ have been! If I had allowed it…" she persisted stubbornly.

"In that case, my dear, I am afraid I would have allowed it too; in which case no harm would have been done because we both would have been willing." Dumbledore could not help but blush slightly at his own remark. He had admitted to something that he did not think should have happened until much, much later. And then they were in such an awkward standing together…

"You only say that because you are attracted to me like every other male in this castle!" Abigail replied contemptuously. "_Any_ man would want me… No man will ever be able to resist me…"

"While that may be true, I am certainly not just _any_ man!" Dumbledore retorted, moving closer. "I've told you countless times before that I am no pushover when it comes to spells. And I see more in you than any of those silly boys. I see your personality, your intellect, your spirit, and yes, even your heart…" He didn't know what he was talking about, but it did sound rather fetching and when she continued to look doubtful he pulled her towards him and kissed her for lack of anything else to say.

"Don't! Please don't!" she cried, pulling away. "We can't…not now… I'm still in seventh year!" she protested, but she did look happier all the same.

"You are quite right my dear, but seeing as this is your last year…and next year you will be free of this school… To be frank then, I see a diminishing conflict in our future," he stated firmly. She could not contend with that and allowed him to give her a quick embrace. "Now, I suggest you go back to bed and try to avoid any teachers who will give you a more grievous punishment than I." And with a quick peck on her forehead he escorted her to his classroom door and let her be off, still wearing a perfectly confused look on her face.

At the Halloween feast in October, Professor Dippet made an unusual announcement:

"This year Hogwarts will be giving a Yuletide Ball. All those in fourth year and up are invited. Though this is not a usual annual event here I have decided to let you all have some fun before you leave for the Christmas holidays." And he sat down to enthusiastic applause and groans combined.

Dumbledore leaned sideways to catch a glimpse of Abigail at her table. Her eyes found him and she gave him a panicked look. Well, he knew the reason for her distress, and he could not help but feel it as well. Every boy in seventh year was likely to ask her, and he being a professor it was not appropriate for him to court her at the moment. Dumbledore huffed to himself and hoped that at least he could steal a dance. And if her date treated her unfairly then the unlucky boy would be found sporting the largest quantity of heads sprouting from his neck!

After dinner most everyone retired to his or her dormitories after having spent the day at Hogsmeade. A few studious students went to the library. Dumbledore followed a group of them hoping to find Abigail among them. When he entered the fairly deserted library he spotted her straightaway near the back, flipping through a few books. Madame Dippet, the librarian and wife of the Headmaster, was sorting shelves on the other side of the library. Abigail did not look up when Dumbledore took a seat across from her at the table.

"Were you expecting me?" Dumbledore said playfully.

"I should hope not," Abigail said, pushing aside the book and scribbling away on parchment. "It would not do for us to be arranging regular secret meetings you know."

"What about irregular secret meetings?" Dumbledore prodded.

"Well…"

Dumbledore laughed, then suddenly checked to see if Madame Dippet had noticed. Abigail blushed but smiled. "I _am_ trying to study you know. I have a lot to go over in Herbology especially if I want an 'E' on my N.E.W.T."

"It is a holiday you know," said Dumbledore, trying to pull the parchment from her. She looked up at him irritably.

"We should go somewhere private before students start suspecting, really Albus, think!"

"A grand idea I must say," he laughed.

"Stay there and follow in five minutes," she whispered. "Look natural."

"I'll just stay here and correct your grammar, then go look in the old deserted section for rare books on Transfiguration to enlighten my pupils," he mimicked in a high, whiny voice, just like the irritable Potions teacher. Abigail giggled and hurried off to the deserted section. Dumbledore kept an eye on Madame Dippet all the while, but she was busy looking over what few students were there and helping them with their studies. In five minutes time he left to slowly wander down the aisles. When he found the right one he pulled the girl into his arms, all the while backing up into the darkness.

"Albus!" Abigail protested, while Dumbledore actively expressed his affection all over her face. "Albus, I thought we were going to talk!"

"Oh did you?" Dumbledore asked tauntingly, pulling her closer.

"Honestly!" she sighed, though she let him continue his affections. "I can't talk to you after class, I can't hardly say more than 'hi' in passing. And the one moment we're alone you'd rather use it to-"

"I'm just putting time to use," he replied, his voice muffled behind her ear. It was a few minutes before he desisted. "Alright then." And he stood back and leaned against the bookshelf behind him. "How have you been?"

Abigail rolled her eyes before answering and sighed. "I have been fine. A lot of homework, studying…you know how it is. And that essay you gave us two days ago did _not_ help."

"Excuse me for wanting to expand your horizons of knowledge. You _are_ in seventh year my dear," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling.

"Besides that, I was…asked to go to the Yuletide Ball with Charlie Drimball," she said sheepishly.

Dumbledore stopped to think about that. Charlie Drimball was one of his own students, and in Abigail's Transfiguration class. The boy was a typical blonde-blue-eyed-beauty from a high class muggle family in London. He was polite, charming... Dumbledore grimaced.

"Well I couldn't just go with you now could I?" Abigail retorted at his expression. "Charlie is a very nice boy-"

"Who is basically entranced by you," Dumbledore finished for her in a gruff voice.

"I don't want you to be jealous, Albus. That boy hasn't half your wit nor your personality. I accepted him because I trust him to be respectable, _and_ he is a fellow student, unlike you my dear Professor," the girl said, reaching out her hand to pull his arm towards her. She pulled him against herself and buried her face in his broad chest. "Please understand that I would much rather be with you, were circumstances different."

"I know," Dumbledore replied with a sigh. He had no need to get jealous, though he would very much dislike seeing that blonde beauty of a boy dancing with his Abbie. He pulled her away from him a bit and tilted her chin up. "I understand the circumstances, dearest, and I wish only that you enjoy yourself." With great effort he managed an encouraging smile. "I will be there too you know, professors have to supervise this ball. Hopefully if everything is dark and everyone...uh...occupied...I will steal a dance from you."

"Oh you really shouldn't Albus, really!" Abigail protested immediately, pulling away from him, but he only laughed.

"No one can possibly stop me! I am a renowned Transfiguration Professor now and if I wish to have a casual dance with one of my students I have every right to do so." And he pulled her still closer and managed to calm her with a kiss.

"Let us hope you do not publicly display your affection in such a way on the dance floor," retorted a voice behind them. Abigail gave a tiny yelp and pushed hard against Dumbledore to break free. Dumbledore whirled and came nearly face to face with Professor Dippet. Abigail squeaked behind him and held her hands to her mouth.

"Sir...I..." he stammered. He was all set to face the consequences before him, but it was Abigail he was mostly concerned about. Why, this was just her last year at Hogwarts...and she _was_ of age... Professor Dippet held up a hand, and just then Dumbledore noticed Madame Dippet behind him.

"I can easily understand the situation as easily as the next man," Dippet said in a slightly stern voice, though he could not manage to hide his smile. "Only it is rather late, and we have the safety of our students to consider... Did you not notice that it is five past nine? Miss Paige will have five points already taken from her house. Please hurry along dear before punishment increases." Abigail bobbed, gave a fleeting look at Dumbledore and sped down the aisles to the library's exit.

"Well now..." Dippet began, his grin breaking out all over his face. "An unusual predicament of course, but all in all we are all human I suppose." He laughed at Dumbledore's stricken expression. "I do not blame either of you. You are both quite fetching I must say. I declare I must see the girls follow you down every corridor here Dumbledore. And it seems you've landed with the prettiest and cleverest of the lot. It is highly in your favor that the girl is in seventh year. You may have had to wait another year or two longer to have her you know." His smile disappeared for a moment. "But while I do not forbid your choice I must encourage you not to make it public-"

"Of that I am fully aware Sir," Dumbledore replied, feeling slightly embarrassed. It was an extremely unnerving situation as it was, being caught by the Headmaster himself.

"However, after she graduates she is no longer my responsibility...nor anyone else's it seems," he said, pausing reflectively. Dumbledore recalled that Abigail had no parents, no guardians at all except the head of the orphanage. He felt a surge of relief. If Dippet was truly letting them go, why then there was no problem at all. But poor Abigail, how she must feel now on her way back to her dormitories, dreading the worst for herself after being caught. He wished he could reassure her. He would find a way.

"So that is all I will say on the matter," Dippet continued, interrupting the young man from his thoughts. "So I suggest you turn in Professor, I daresay you'll want to reassure your young student as early as possible tomorrow. She will receive no punishment beyond the five points I assure you. Though if I catch you two again, or worse, if someone else here does, I can promise the punishments will extend to you both." Madame Dippet nodded curtly behind him.

"And I will not tolerate the two of you in the back of _my_ library! Scandalous! Why if _I_ catch you again _here_..."

"I understand Madame Dippet. Goodnight Professor, and thank you," Dumbledore said quickly, and side-stepped the two and hurried off himself in a frenzy. His mind was spinning all the way to his office. How humiliating, but all in all it had turned out all right. As long as they were never again caught...and he would _never_ put the girl in a similar situation again. So the only possible protection he could think of was total separation, which of course would be difficult, but the only safety he could offer. They could never sneak away again... There were so many students about, not to mention ghosts, who would tattle as soon as they saw him and Abigail. But such a harsh cut-off of communication would surely hurt Abigail, not to mention cause himself considerable suffering.

Dumbledore sat at his desk and rummaged through the drawers. He knew he had an odd charm book somewhere. Someday he would have to get himself organized, perhaps Abbie could help him - she had her notebooks color-coded to her textbooks. The thought made him grin and encouraged his search all the more. However it was not until nearly an hour later when he located the small book, leaving his office in complete disarray as if a great niffler had been searching for gold through it. He spent the rest of the night up and working and did not wake until after the students had their breakfast.

Dumbledore was in a horrid state as he bounded out the door into his classroom as students filed in. Abigail was waiting at his desk for him, her eyes wide at his appearance. Quickly he ducked back into his back room and saw a rather startling impression of himself in the mirror over his dresser. His eyes were puffy and his hair so disheveled it looked as if it had been windblown with incredible force in all directions. Awkwardly he splashed his face and combed his hair with great difficulty. Suddenly he felt a certain familiar warmth coming from behind him...

"Abbie you shouldn't! " Dumbledore protested, whirling around to see the girl standing there, her face very much stricken.

"What have you done to yourself?" she demanded, though sympathy lined her voice. She seized the comb from him and ordered him to turn around.

"You can't," he fought, pushing her away, "Did everyone see you come in here? Is the door open?"

"No, hardly anyone has arrived yet. They aren't looking forward too much to your lecture on the NEWTs you know. Your office door is open but I closed your chamber door behind me - no one saw how far I went inside," she reassured him.

"But you have to realize...I was warned by Professor Dippet...if he ever catches us again there may be dire consequences for us both," he protested, pushing her hands away as she tried to reach up and groom his unruly hair.

"Were there further consequences after being caught last night?" Abigail suddenly asked, her eyes wide with anxiety. She must have been up all night as well, Dumbledore mused, worrying fit to make her sick.

"He will do nothing to either of us unless we are caught," he said, gripping her wrist holding the comb. "And you have already risked much by coming in here. You _are_ still a student you know," he finished rather testily.

"Oh that's easy," she replied, putting her other hand in his to loosen his grip by caressing it. What a charmer! "If anyone asks, which of course they will, I'll simply say that I had a bad score on one of my essays and you wished to speak to me in private without embarrassing me in front of the whole class." Well, that did make sense, and he _had_ prior to this called certain students to his office for such discussions...

"You've had nothing to eat have you?" she asked him, truly concerned now, and he loved her so much for it. "Where _were_ you this morning? Or all night..."

"I've made something for us..." he said, breaking away and entering his office - straightening up as those in the front rows could catch a glimpse inside. He opened a brown wax paper packet on his desk and pulled out two shiny red quills. He motioned for her to stand in front of him to block the view from the door more effectively. Then he whispered, "Since we cannot meet, even now not even in private, I have bewitched these quills," and he gave one to her, "so that wherever we write the ink will be transferred to the other's parchment in red, and only disappear after we have read the message. You could now write something in your textbook and the ink will immediately fade and appear on my attendance sheet, or some other bit of parchment I may be reading - and I will see it and it will disappear before anyone else has a chance to read it. No one will ever suspect, ever."

"You are so clever, Albus. What a brilliant piece of charmwork!" Abigail exclaimed under her breath, twirling the quill in front of her eyes. Dumbledore suddenly grabbed her hand and caressed it fiercely with his thumb and fingers.

"You must understand...this is the last time...at least until you graduate..." he stammered.

"I understand...Professor," Abigail said, resignation blatant on her face. "I will write you then." And she turned from him and deftly hid the quill in the folds of her robe and strode out of the office, head held high like a student only just receiving a personal lecture and braving the response of the class. Clever girl, Dumbledore thought to himself with a considerable amount of pride. It did not take too long for him to finally appear somewhat put together before his class.

And so it went that they both penned each other, sometimes quite late at night, discussing problems, hopes, doubts, fears, worries, joys, pleasures, and love for the next several weeks. In the hallways they would only acknowledge each other in passing, sometimes daring so much as to wink or brush too close together and then apologize profusely afterward. After a time it became quite lonely, and Dumbledore missed Abigail's company. He missed reading her face and expression, feeling the familiar warmth that dominated her very presence. And from the way she gazed at him in classes he knew she longed to be with him too. Yet neither could risk exposure, no matter how hard the situation was.

The Yuletide Ball came around swiftly, and many of the fourth through seventh year girls made excuses to leave classes early to prepare for it. Several times that day Dumbledore followed Abigail down the hall with his eyes, and twice she met up with Charlie Drimball, who was enthusiastically trying to attract her attention. Abigail had seemed in a rather morbid mood all day, and he could very easily understand why. Trying to push these disturbing thoughts aside he set his bewitched eraser to go to work clearing the board and went to change into dress robes.

They were a deep royal blue, and he was amazed that he could still fit into them, well barely. His shoulders had widened and he was a bit taller than when he was seventeen. He combed his thick auburn hair so that it fell in nicely groomed waves about the edge of his face. He had never felt so vain before in his life as he smoothed his eyebrows and practiced a few charming expressions before the looking glass. When he was finally satisfied that he was positively the most attractive young man in all the wizarding community, Dumbledore made his way to the great hall, his eyes searching for only one person...while he fingered a small velvet case in his pocket.

Many of the students greeted Dumbledore as he entered the great hall. He suddenly lost all sense of dread and nervousness as he saw the state the great hall was in. Turtle doves flitted overhead beneath a navy blue starry sky with a waxing gibbous moon, holly and ivy lined the walls, and twelve Christmas trees lined the floor-one was adorned with real fairies. Fleetingly he wondered what Abigail would think of it. That reminded him, and he quickly took a look around before the candelabras dimmed and the small chamber orchestra struck up a lively tune. Well, he mused, he was much too early. Most of the girls wouldn't be here for another half hour or so. Dumbledore's hands became cold and clammy at the thought of what Abigail would look like all dressed up.

"Professor?"

"Hmm?" Dumbledore snapped out of his reverie and looked down at a short fourth year boy with enough freckles to hide his entire face. "Ah, Monty, how nice to see you here!" The boy positively beamed at being addressed by his teacher.

"Please sir... I was wondering if you would be willing to help me?" Monty beckoned the young man closer, and Dumbledore obliged with a certain degree of amusement. "Sir... Since the Potions Master is unable to...I mean...would _you_ tell me how to make a love potion?"

Dumbledore beamed. "I am indeed sorry Monty. You see I'm clear out of love potions-everyone here has used them up you see- and I cannot tell you how to make one unless I have one to...er...work off of." He feigned helplessness and gave a great sigh of exaggerated regret. To his amusement Monty's hopeful face fell in disappointment. "But you know, Monty my boy, I know a way that will impress all the ladies!"

"Really?" exclaimed the small boy.

"Indeed," replied Dumbledore in a mock-serious voice. He was enjoying himself immensely. He beckoned the boy closer and whispered, "If you pull out your pockets, mess up your hair, and whistle "The Muffin Man" - you will attract every female in the vicinity." Dumbledore then cuffed him affectionately on the shoulder as if he were conferring a great favor. Monty's eyes lit up and he gave thanks profusely, then walked off, starting to pull out his pockets. Dumbledore suddenly regretted his little joke. Honestly, wasn't it obvious enough that he was joking? Poor Monty. Well, Abigail did mention that the boy was unusually gullible, and that even Dumbledore's odd sense of humor would not elude him.

Dumbledore suddenly felt a presence, and immediately he knew who it was. Gathering courage he turned slowly on his heel, and all too soon his heart felt like it was being wrenched from his chest. Abigail was standing there with Charlie, and while he looked well off enough himself in a deep mahogany robe, she was positively glistening in a blue that was so light it was practically white. Her hair was half pulled up, the other half down and cascading down her almost bare back. Some tendrils were allowed to fall to the sides of her face, lining her perfect features.

Charlie was looking rather overwhelmed by her, and couldn't keep his eyes off. Well perhaps if the boy knew that it had been his Transfiguration professor who had already kissed those cranberry lips, traced that smile, fingered those glossy tendrils... Dumbledore shook his head. He was a professor, she was a student, and Professor Dippet was supervising by the refreshment table. He could not, even though he so wanted to, make a scene. He was however, inclined to dance with her at some point this evening - so immediately once the music turned to a slow song, he asked one of his students, a fourth year, to dance with him. By making it a common practice, no one would look twice if he danced with Abigail, as he asked every other student to dance.

The evening wore on quickly, the chamber music occasionally interrupted by the booming of Christmas crackers being opened at the refreshment table. Charlie and Abigail continued to dance every slow dance together. And near the end he started to hold her closer. Dumbledore silently seethed and broke open a few crackers just to let off steam. This had been his night...his only chance to sneak away... There were so many other couples going out onto the grounds unnoticed... Professor Dippet smiled to himself and shook his head every time he saw one more couple disappear. So no teachers would be supervising the grounds! And the headmaster had never told _him_ to supervise anything but the dance floor, though now that Professor Dippet was nodding to sleep in a corner...

Dumbledore made his move and tapped Charlie on the shoulder. "May I intervene?" he asked sweetly, all the time pulling Abigail away. The boy stammered, but finally backed away towards the tables. He would not dare interfere with a professor.

"Oh Albus you mustn't!" whispered Abigail as Dumbledore pulled her tight against him.

"I must and I just have," he replied, his eyes locking with hers with such intensity that she was rendered speechless. They continued to dance slowly in circles, and it was true that no one took notice now, as they were either occupied alone in corners or completely absent from the hall. Dumbledore's fingers clasped the girl's waist tightly and her hands were firm in his. "Enjoying yourself are you, with Charlie?" he braved to ask .

"Well...I'm safe in his hands I suppose. Don't know if I'm as safe in yours," she replied, giving him a teasing smile. He tightened his grip. "Really Albus, this is really public..."

"Then we should go somewhere private," came Dumbledore's reply, and he spun her towards the door.

"We can't - Charlie!"

This was true enough as the boy still couldn't keep his eyes off of Abigail. But Dumbledore used his unending wit and murmured a spell, pulling his wand slightly from his robes. Four or five turtle doves from above flitted down and swooped after Charlie, who had put his arms up over his head to avoid the attack. Both culprits covered their mouths from laughter and dashed from the hall.

"I suppose that will distract him a while," Abigail gasped, recovering slightly as they made their way to the front doors.

"Just long enough for us to get away, come!" Dumbledore seized Abigail's wrist and dragged her outside into the snow.

"Albus I haven't a coat!" the girl gasped. And she was quite right - the cold winter night air was brutal, and she had nothing but gauzy dress robes.

"I'll handle it." Dumbledore conjured two fur coats from his wand and he helped her into the white one before shrugging on his own. "Now come quickly before we are seen." And grabbing her hand with one hand he dashed off with her across the grounds, flicking his wand with the other to erase their footprints in the light snow. The lights from the castle were becoming dimmer and dimmer until they finally reached a tree bordering the lake. The moonlight shone down and lit the smooth ripples so it looked almost dazzling. Here Dumbledore pulled Abigail towards him and kissed her with intensity. They had not been able to see each other alone in what seemed so long a time...

"Albus..." Abigail breathed as his lips traced hers and she brought her arm up around his neck.

"You weren't really enjoying your time with that boy now were you?" Dumbedore teased, pushing back her hair and fingering every plane of her face to memorize every bit of it.

"He _is_ very nice Albus-"

"Ha!"

"No really-"

Dumbledore tried to kiss her again but she put her fingers to his mouth, pushing him away. "No really Albus..." She looked at him and he understood that she was serious. "Please hear me out... First of all, I love you," and she caressed his cheek with one hand, and he pulled that hand away to kiss her palm. "But...I have this feeling... You see, Fae also can see parts of the future, and if some can't actually _see_ it, they can have unerring feelings as to what is to come." And now tears started to form in her eyes. "With you...I feel that our love would be trial-ridden. That we would be separated fairly early on..." Abigail closed her eyes at her inner pain. Dumbledore kissed her fingers.

"I don't understand, love," he said. "Were you looking at Charlie for an alternative? So you could spare yourself possible agony with me?"

"I was, but I have loved you first and I do not think it possible to love anyone else more. I've made my decision - you are my love." At this Dumbledore felt a warm tingling feeling throughout his chest and tugging at his heart. She was forming a bond with him... He could all of a sudden perceive her feelings with intense clarity.

"I love you Abigail Paige," Dumbledore stated and he kissed her more deeply and she pulled him closer to herself. He wanted to stay like this forever, but he finally remembered why he wanted her alone. Finally he broke away from Abigail and she uttered such a sigh of regret that he wanted to kiss her again, but he instead brought out his small velvet box, and knelt down in the snow in front of her. Abigail gasped and tears ran down her cheeks in abundance. When it was over they continued their displays of affection, only this time the girl wore a silver sapphire ring surrounded in tiny round diamonds on her finger. It had taken a good portion of Dumbledore's income to pay for it, but he had managed to get down to Hogsmeade and purchase it. Finally, they decided to head back to the castle, but before they left the tree Abigail again repeated her fear.

"I do have the most incredible feeling Albus. We will not grow old together... I mean, we can't anyway because I'll be young for another four thousand years. But either way it will end in tragedy. I cannot be married to you as an old man and it is inevitable that I will live on and have to watch you pass away..."

"I know," was all Dumbledore could reply. And the incredible sadness tugged at his heart too. "But let us turn in for now, and worry about the future when it comes. But either way, I swear to love you forever - even if death should come upon either of us."

"I just knew no power could keep you two apart," Professor Dippet said, shaking his head from side to side. Dumbledore stood calmly before him and could not stop from smiling. "Well," the old man breathed at last, "I wish you two happiness for all that you've managed to escape expulsion from this school. Will you still be with us next year Albus?"

"Of course, Headmaster, Hogwarts has and always will be my home." Dumbledore sadly recalled his grandparents and brother who had long since ceased to communicate with him.

"And what of Abigail?"

"Oh she'll be here with me. I'm afraid I cannot intrude on your hospitality more than necessary, so we will be quite content in my present quarters. Abbie wishes to open up an herbal shop in Hogsmeade. She has such a way with plants you see..."

"That girl will only settle as a shopkeeper? But she could be great, a Healer at St. Mungo's even..." Dippet stuttered.

"I've argued that point as well with her, sir, and she is insistent on staying as close to me as possible. And then there's all the inconvenience of apparrating in and out of Hogwarts." Dumbledore shrugged his helplessness. It had been a poor argument between he and Abigail anyway - for he wanted her close to home as well.

"Well then... You have my permission of course. I'd suggest getting the wedding over with just as semester ends so you two can enjoy the summer together before you start to teach again Albus."

"That was exactly our plan, sir," Dumbledore replied jovially, and at his dismissal he skipped out of the office. Abigail stood by the gargoyle outside, her perfect face white and anxious. Dumbledore could not restrain himself and he pulled her into him with one arm and kissed her as she tried to protest. But Dumbledore did not care in the slightest. He knew that everyone was outside enjoying the afternoon before they finished the rest of their final exams. Abigail finally managed to push him away.

"I suppose this means the Headmaster has approved us?" she laughed.

"And given us his blessing," he added, loping his arm around her waist and steering her down the hallway.

"And we are to stay in your present chambers? I had hoped to have a real home someday, a kitchen, drawing room..."

"I know dearest," Dumbledore said, holding her closer in sympathy. "Perhaps we can figure something out."

"Oh, Albus, you know there isn't anything we can do. I shall simply have to be content - and it will be all the easier if I am with you," Abigail said, kissing his cheek. "Oh, and I've just seen about getting a premises in Hogsmeade - there just so happens that they have an empty shop fairly close to Honeydukes. Can you imagine the strange scents that will be mixing on that road? Sweets, chocolates, and then the freshness of mint leaves, flowers, spices..."

"You will smell very nice when you come home then won't you?" Albus laughed. Together they walked down the sunlit corridor outside where they parted, but it would not be long before they would be bound together and it would be all right for them to be so.

Several years later...

"Dearest have you seen my alchemy book?" called Dumbledore, positively tearing his office apart.

"Are you going out with Flamel again?" Abigail replied from the other room. She was going through bills herself for her business. Both of them seemed to be in a very foul mood today.

"Of course! Do you realize how much I can learn from this man? The founder of the sorcerer's stone? I must find that blasted book!" Dumbledore proceeded to empty his shelves of all contents with an irritable wave of his wand.

"Really Albus!" snapped Abigail as she walked in on him. "What do you expect to find in this mess?" She waved her own wand and books, papers, quills, etc jumped into neat piles on his desk.

"Abigail!" he cried as though he'd been scandalized. "What did you do that for? You may have covered something important on the desk!" and he shoved the neat piles onto the floor in a fury.

"Well I see you do not require any assistance. I will return to my own business and leave you to your most intelligent method of searching," the girl snapped, and slammed the door behind her.

It did not take too long for Dumbledore to calm down. He was rarely angry as it was. And he had been neglecting his wife for a great deal of time now...he and his friend Nicolas Flamel had been making so much progress of late... But that should not matter, he should be putting his home life first. Sighing, he waved his wand and all the papers and books that he had just scattered flew up into their proper places. And to his surprise he saw his alchemy book sitting innocently under the desk. His throwing things onto the floor had only hid it further from view. Abigail was right, he was acting the complete idiot.

"Abbie?" he called softly after opening the door to the inner room. She was sitting at the small table which was covered in slips of paper. Her head was resting on her forearms and her shoulders shook. She was crying, and it was because of his stupidity.

"Abbie forgive me, I've been neglecting you." He came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders, leaning over to give her cheek a kiss.

"Oh Albus," she sobbed, burying her head deeper. Dumbledore could not stand her withdrawing from him, so he gently lifted her up and turned her around so she could bury her face in his chest instead. She clung to him as though he were going to disappear in seconds. He had to pull her away from him with some strength, and the face that looked up at him was tear-streaked and fearful. He also in that moment considered her beauty, which was always unfailing, and also how she looked not a year over twenty. Her aging had stopped completely it seemed, and this pulled at his heart, for he himself was well into his thirties and would continue on getting older.

"You've understood my love," she said ever so gently. His heart quivered, he knew that since that day in winter, when he had first proposed she had bonded with him and she could every now and then perceive his thoughts. She reached up a hand and pushed back his auburn hair. "What am I to do the rest of the 3,900 years of my life?" she whispered.

"Whatever you choose to do, love," he replied, holding her close again. There was a long silence. Each were grieving in their hearts.

"I won't want to live anymore...not after you are gone," Abigail replied. "I can find a way to end that misery..."

"Oh Abbie don't talk that way," Dumbledore scolded. But he knew in his heart he would be helpless to stop her if such a time came. When it came. He slowly pulled her away and brushed the tears from her cheeks. "Let us just be happy now, Abigail. No use fretting about years to come."

She nodded and turned away, waving her wand this way and that to set up a meal for them both and clearing the small table as well.

"I sent in a request for a refund for that potion," she said in a rather shaky voice. Dumbledore sat down and rubbed his forehead in weariness.

"Dearest, I've told you before... I do not think it is the potion maker's fault that-"

"I know!" she snapped, and that was the end of that discussion. They had both been trying for years to have at least one child, and every attempt had failed miserably. Recently they had been trying potions specially made from St. Mungo's... but the fact that Abigail was practically all fairy made her incredibly barren, to both of their disappointment. She now tried to smile at him to take the sting from her words. She tried to change the painful subject.

"How is that student of yours coming along?"

"Minerva? Oh she is truly one of the brightest," Dumbledore replied, also grateful to get off the previous subject. "She has such a passion for Transfiguration. In fact, just the other day she announced to me that she would become an animagus before she graduated Hogwarts! In all honesty, I would not be surprised."

"What did you tell her?"

"I said that she could as long as she had my help along the way and registered with the Ministry."

"That's awfully dangerous, Albus. Are you sure she can handle that?" Abigail asked, now conjuring plates of roast chicken and potatoes and pouring some pumpkin juice for him.

"I will not let her come to harm, Abbie. I've never let any of my students come to harm."

"Oh yes you have, you married one!" she laughed. He joined in her laughter, which seemed so strained these days. He was hardly ever home but always with Nicolas Flamel. Flamel was an old companion from his Ministry office worker days. The man had studied alchemy for years and had recently involved Dumbledore's expertise in his latest experiments. Recently he had been made a partner as well. Their now steady flow of income was being put to finding a nice cottage somewhere near Hogsmeade.

They could actually afford their little cottage quite easily. Dumbledore had five years earlier spent his free time examining dragon's blood, at the encouragement of Flamel, and had discovered twelve uses for it besides in potionmaking. One involved an oven cleaner, which in all actuality Abigail had discovered one day as she accidentally poured the reddish liquid (thinking it was tomato sauce) onto a meatloaf and placed it in the oven. The meatloaf was gone but the blood had burned away all scraps of it and burned the walls and the oven rack free of all stain. As a result of these discoveries they were given a great deal of gold.

Unfortunately it was nearly impossible to leave Hogwarts at this time. A great muggle war had erupted, incensed by the dark wizard Grindelwald who was known as a blatant muggle-hater. Villages were being ravaged by all sorts of dark creatures, especially dementors. A gray mist constantly hung in the air all over England and the rest of Europe. Muggle weapons were being created with hints from Grindelwald in order to have them become as destructive as possible. So far in Japan a massive muggle population was destroyed due to one of these weapons.

"What are you thinking love?" Abigail asked quietly, reaching over to stroke his cheek, thoroughly breaking Dumbledore from his thoughts.

"Simply this war, dearest. Grindelwald must be stopped."

"And you think only you can defeat him?" Abigail asked skeptically, moving onto his lap. He wrapped his arms about her scant waist and pulled her against him. She sighed with contentment and he could not help but kiss her.

"Of course only I can defeat him...have you ever seen another mind as miraculous as mine?" he laughed. She smirked and gave him a playful slap across his shoulder.

"Ever the humble one... But unfortunately you are always right," she said. He took that as a compliment and kissed her again. "Your beard is getting quite long. While I think you also look very wise and distinguished with a beard, I'm afraid it does interfere a bit with our kissing and such..." Dumbledore laughed heartily at this and replied that he could prove that it truly did not interfere at all...and he did.

It was a few days later and Abigail was out in one of the greenhouses. She rarely was seen out on Hogwarts grounds, for she had always been avoiding questioning students as to her being there. In time, she hoped, they would forget that she was Dumbledore's wife. It would be an incredible inconvenience should she, looking as if she were in her twenties, be known as the aging Dumbledore's spouse. She knew that was a future problem that was fast approaching, and she could not help but heavily grieve on occasion because of it.

Abigail was trimming the leaves of baby mandrakes when Dumbledore sauntered in, wearing his violently violet muggle suit. He smiled when he saw her tenderly administering to the plants.

"Ah...my rose among the thorns..." he said, rather wearily Abigail noticed. He came up to her but she held her dirty hands up.

"I wouldn't want to stain your lovely suit. I suppose you ventured out of wizard territory my dear?" she questioned. Dumbledore satisfied himself with a quick kiss on her lips instead.

"Yes, to go pick up a new student."

"Muggle-born then?"

"I do not know for certain yet, but he has been raised by muggles his entire life. I told him about his acceptance into Hogwarts at an orphanage."

"Oh the poor dear. I suspect that he is considerably more cheerful now however!" Abigail laughed, remembering her days in an orphanage and when she was summoned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Dumbledore did not reply to that, but stepped away a few paces to gaze out of the glass windows out onto the grounds. He looked incredibly solemn.

"What is it Albus?" Abigail asked, moving to the water basin to wash off her hands and then joining him by the windows.

"Oh...it's nothing of great consequence...not right now anyway. But I fear Hogwarts has taken on a rather troublesome student."

"Oh Albus, he was raised in an orphanage his entire life. One has to learn to defend oneself there certainly. Hogwarts will be different for him, he'll learn to adjust and become comfortable and learn to come out of his overprotective shell."

"I wish I could believe you...but..." He turned to her with all seriousness in his eyes and proceeded to tell her about Tom Riddle and how he first started controlling his magic in order to manipulate and frighten other people...about how he frightened two little children in a cave and how the mistress of the orphanage had found a dead rabbit hanging from the rafters... Abigail's eyes grew wide as he continued, and finally she shook her head.

"We must watch out for that one..."

"I agree, but now to more pleasant business," he said, turning to his beloved wife. "How has your day been? I see you've found the mandrakes."

"I had an inkling to be with them. I pulled one up from the soil and I heard just a baby's wail through my earmuffs. Nothing happened, Albus. I took off the earmuffs and all I could hear was a loud baby's crying." Her eyes turned down and she turned away from him. Albus reached out for her and held her close though her body would not respond.

"I told you we could adopt..." he said quietly.

"And I told you that I could not stand to have both a husband and a child die long before myself. If it were my own...sharing my own fairy blood - I'd have it for so much longer...at least _something_ of my family!" she wailed, and broke down completely, beating her fists against Dumbledore's chest.

The intense pain Abigail felt was echoed within Dumbledore's heart. He could not help but have it consume him. He too badly wanted a child. But worse than that he realized that time was dwindling for him. While it remained endless for Abigail it would eventually take its toll on him. She would come to see him as an old man one day, and she would remain always looking a youth. As a result of his inner turmoil he would often take nightly strolls. He happened to be taking one of his nightly strolls throughout the small wizarding villages in the countryside one night when he encountered a group of closely huddled figures. As he passed silently he heard one of their voices.

"He wants us to strike England next. Germany is completely gone under. They'll now be able to take away those Jew muggles in England as well… Just as Grindelwald said, it's going to be like a muggle extinction. And all we had to do was light the fire –"

The man could not finish because he was now tied up by a flaming blue rope. Dumbledore had turned around and was staring at these men with his piercingly blue gaze. His anger was terrible and even the cruel looking wizards flinched at it.

"Continue, if you please…" Dumbledore said, in a coldly polite tone. "I would very much like to hear your plans for England…"

Right then there was a loud _crack_ behind Dumbledore and he whirled just in time to put up a shield charm to dispel the curse thrown at him. Out of the shadows a man emerged into the lamplight, with a long pointed face and a curled black and gray beard. His eyes were narrow and as black as the night sky. He raised his crooked wand again and flung another curse which Dumbledore easily deflected with a flick of his wrist.

"Good evening, Grindelwald," Dumbledore said pleasantly, sweeping off his pointed hat and bowing a bit. Grindelwald did not answer but angrily muttered another curse and raised his wand, and Dumbledore again deflected the curse and replaced his hat on his head. "I was wondering when I would come across you. I knew I had a golden opportunity of meeting you after I had discovered your most loyal servants."

"Master Grindelwald, we were taken by surprise…we had no pretense, no warning!" protested one of the men, struggling violently against his flaming blue bonds.

"I will hear nothing from you," Grindelwald replied, eyeing his new adversary with contempt. "My punishment will be most severe, Addams. Consulting my plans out in the open air…in a wizard establishment no less… Yes…loyal servants indeed," he sneered.

"I must praise you on your cursework, Grindelwald," Dumbledore said, shaking out his wrist from the force against which it had to struggle. "But your apparition may need a bit more work…I bet several sleeping wizards and witches could hear that crack clear down the road. Shameful for an adult wizard really. But I will excuse you. To the point though, since I feel dawdling is a severe waste of time, I was wondering if you could explain in detail your plans for England. Your most loyal servants were on the brink of telling me…" Dumbledore was able to speak easily for some reason. It was as though he had lost all fear, for his despair about he and Abigail was so great that it seemed nothing really mattered…and what was fear when you knew you would eventually lose everything anyway?

"You are a most impertinent man," Grindelwald sneered. "I cannot stand impertinence. You shall hear nothing further tonight." With that he raised his wand again and conjured a thousand arrows out of the air to fly straight at Dumbledore. In a swift movement Dumbledore conjured a great shield and grew wings from his ankles which made him levitate into the air. Grindelwald sneered again, and sent up a shower of poisoned daggers. A witch screamed in the background and Dumbledore was vaguely aware that the village was awakening. The lamplights became brighter as Dumbledore battled Grindelwald.

He did not know how long it was he continued to block the curses flung at him. He did know he was beginning to ache but his mind was in a flurry, thinking up spells as quick as lightening and having each one succeed. Grindelwald had a definite pattern in his spell casting and Dumbledore could easily predict his style. He could hear screaming and shouting all around him on the narrow street, and for some reason he was reminded of the muggles. The countless number of muggles who had suffered needlessly because of Grindelwald's influence…how he had destroyed millions of lives. It was only one more thing Dumbledore had to suffer…one more thing on top of his devastation with knowing that he and Abigail would never be-

There was a tremendous scream and Dumbledore's eyes cleared in time to see Grindelwald sink to the ground, blood spurting from his chest. There was a deafening cheer all around him, and his vision was blurred again and he was very aware of the discomfort all over his body.

"Albus! Albus! Oh Albus!" someone was ranting to him as he felt familiar arms squeeze him tight. He was already uncomfortable and he tried to push this person away. "Albus, your face…your face Albus… Oh please talk to me Albus!" But he could not talk…he was faint…

Dumbledore slowly opened his eyes and let them slowly focus on the unfamiliar room. He heard indistinct voices that eventually became clear to him:

"His face we fixed. It was a mess when you brought him in Madam, but we applied liberal potions right away. It is pretty much back the way it was. Though his nose will be a bit crooked from now on…"

"Oh but I think a crooked nose brings out character don't you?" Dumbledore said in a croaky voice. Abigail's face appeared above him instantly. Her eyes were watering over and he grasped her hands. He did not think what his rash attack on Grindelwald would do to his beloved wife. How she must have worried.

"Congratulations Albus Dumbledore," said a healer as he came into view above his head as well. "You are now the famous Albus Dumbledore…the defeater of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald. The muggle leaders have ended their war as of yesterday."

"You were out for a good two days, my love," Abigail said softly, kissing his knuckles. Dumbledore stroked her cheek which was already wet with tears.

"I don't care too much for fame," he said.

"Regardless," said the healer, moving away and out the door to leave the two alone, "you will be recorded as the most powerful wizard in our time."

A few more years passed much as the ones before, only there was again peace in Europe, in both the muggle and wizard communities. But no peace was to be found at Hogwarts…

"Albus, I just heard…" Abigail came rushing into Professor Dippet's office, following close on her husband's heels.

"Abigail, no, you must keep out of sight! There are still students about!" Dumbledore hissed to her. "Go back to our chambers now, you must not be seen!"

Abigail gave him one reproachful look and pulled a beautifully embroidered cloak from her robes. Still watching him defiantly she slipped it around her shoulders and at once became invisible.

"I may not be seen, Albus, but I will be here by your side! Hogwarts has not had the death of a student for decades! Nor have I heard anything about this Chamber of Secrets everyone is talking about! How can I sit quietly in my little home and just stay while there is pandemonium all around me?" she hissed back.

The meeting with Professor Dippet was not very informative, as the poor old Headmaster was losing his memory as it was and this shock seemed to be beyond what his nerves could handle. But from what he could confer Dumbledore understood that a certain Chamber of Secrets, thought to be a myth, existed somewhere in Hogwarts and someone had let loose the creature thought to be residing within the Chamber. The creature had then killed a young girl in a bathroom.

As the Headmaster spoke, Healers from St. Mungos slowly carried the body of the girl down the steps towards her weeping parents.

"This could be the end of Hogwarts," Dippet said, shaking his bald head. And then Dumbledore was excused. As he followed the Healers down the steps he noticed Tom Riddle, standing tall and handsome, with a furrowed brow. Abigail watched as the two of them spoke with each other. She was a bit caught up in the emotions of the situation. She wished she could be like everyone else, being able to go help console the girl's parents, to stand by her husband's side…

But they had both agreed that she was to disappear from public view. Dumbledore was too old now, and she still looked so young, that it would be impossible to continue using the excuse that Abigail was just using youth potions. And so disappear she did. Professor Dippet never asked any questions about her, most likely because he could not remember her, and everyone else who worked at Hogwarts never ran into her. They had planned it for years…she had gradually disappeared from the wizard society. The Hogwarts students never knew, and never would know, that their Professor Dumbledore had a secret wife. And to take additional precautions, Abigail had performed a complicated Oblivion charm on herself, so that she would be an unremembered, un-thought of person.

During her long hours of seclusion in their small apartment, Abigail set to work on creating an invisibility cloak, making sure every strand of thread carried the strong spell upon contact. She decided it was the best solution for her, to be able to leave and walk about freely about without being seen. She could go back to the greenhouses and tend the plants, since she could no longer run her herbal shop if people would notice that she never aged. Into every invisible thread she wove her sorrows, her fears for the future, every heartache, every thought of losing the man she loved, always knowing that someday she would lose him and that day was coming ever nearer…

"Abigail," Dumbledore said, startling her from her reverie. His blue eyed gazed pierced right through her.

"You can see through the cloak?" Abigail asked, astonished. Why she had performed the most powerful spells…

"I can see through the cloak because you are etched in every thread and pattern in the cloak, and I know and love you too well to not notice your handiwork when I see it," he said softly. He pushed her forward gently to precede him back to their chambers. As of late Dumbledore had been showing an increase in outward affection, almost to the point of worship. It seemed he knew as well what had to happen, and soon.

It was a cool October morning, the sun just barely inching above the horizon, barely glinting in between the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Rubeus Hagrid, a third year, had been expelled the year before, blamed for the release of the monster in the Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore had raved at that situation, wishing for once he were the Minister of Magic to reverse Hagrid's sentence. However, the power he was given was that of Hogwarts Headmaster. In that role he could at least keep Hagrid at Hogwarts as gamekeeper.

Abigail and Dumbledore had moved into the luxurious Head office apartment. Here Abigail had been afflicted with a terrible melancholy. She knew now what she had to do. It was no longer appropriate for them to be together. How could she forever be with a man who continued to age? She could not get in the way of his important role now. How could she possibly support him when she could not even be visible in his presence?

Abigail moved quietly, moving to the window to look out at the approaching dawn. She then turned her head to look back at what she was leaving. Dumbledore lay exhausted in bed, still recovering from the long day at the ministry the day before. He had come home very late. She moved ever so slowly towards him, brushed aside some of his long auburn beard now streaked with silver and kissed him one last time. He barely moved but he murmured her name. Then she closed the door and moved into the office.

Many silver instruments worked on a table across the room. And portraits of old Headmasters, now with Professor Dippet included, were snoring softly in their frames. The place felt so unfamiliar to her. This was Dumbledore's world now. She was no longer a part of it. From her robes she pulled a small squawking creature, a shriveled fledgling. She had found the ashes of the phoenix deep in the Forbidden Forest, where she usually walked while waiting for Dumbledore's return. The phoenix the ashes belonged to had long since transpired, but she blew on them and out sprang a brand new phoenix. She knew it would be a loyal guardian for Dumbledore. She left it on a bare spot on his desk. And with a whirl of her robes she disappeared.

Dumbledore woke with a start, his heart giving him stabbing pains. Something was horribly wrong. His first thought was Abigail. She was not in the bedroom; she was not in the office… The brilliant rays of dawn taunted him from the window as he stood in his robes and looked about. But he knew…there was a horrible icy feeling creeping up his spine that slowly filled his brain with horror, with the realization that what he had been dreading all these years had finally happened. He mouthed incoherent words as he bumped into the desk behind him. He hardly heard the crooning of the baby phoenix. Finally, the pent up despair he had been suppressing for so long burst from his mouth.

"_ABIGAIL! Noooooooooooo!_"

"James Potter and Sirius Black for you sir. Caught out at night _again_ sir! I can do no more with them! They've had more detentions than the rest of the students combined!" the old caretaker croaked as he pushed the two boys into Dumbledore's office. With a sneer the man turned away and slammed the door behind him, rattling some of the instruments on Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore himself sighed as he leaned back in his chair behind his desk. Fawkes, now fully grown and sporting bright red feathers squawked curiously in his cage. A boy with untidy black hair and hazel eyes stood straight-backed before the desk while his companion, a boy with long sleek hair lounged back lazily on his heels, hands in pockets as if this were all a waste of time. Dumbledore leaned forward.

"Well Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, what is it that fascinates the two of you so much as to play around the grounds at night? Though I do not think it is only the two of you, it seems Mr. Pettigrew follows your lead as well."

Sirius Black murmured something under his breath.

"I think Peter Pettigrew was able to avoid our caretaker, Mr. Black, because he happens to be the smallest of the three of you in many ways…"

James shared a startled look with his companion.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I do happen to know what the three of you have been doing once a month out on our grounds. Did you think it would escape my notice? My dear boys, I know much more than names of Honeyduke's sweets. I am indeed quite brilliant you see." He awarded them a smile, not being able to help himself.

"So…" James Potter started. "So, you will punish us then?"

"I do not believe so, Mr. Potter. You see I had many concerns when I allowed Remus Lupin into this school. One of which was that I feared he would have few friends. That apparently has been solved. Another was how to handle his monthly disappearances. And again that too has been solved, and in a most amazing way. Hogwarts students becoming animaguses while still in school. I am astounded at your brilliance boys. I congratulate you."

Both James and Sirius looked at each other with intense relief and a bit of pride. Sirius came out of his relaxed position and moved closer to the desk, his face suddenly wary.

"You will not tell the ministry then, Professor?" he asked, his voice low.

"I know nothing of the incident, I know nothing about your monthly disappearances, and I have no idea why you were in my office in the first place," Dumbledore said waving at the two of them. "Take your regular punishment, I daresay you are quite used to living in detention now, should I have the house elves bring down your beds to that classroom?" The boys were inching towards the door when James suddenly stepped forward.

"Sir, I'm sorry sir, but we keep getting caught out at night. It is hard to sneak us all down to the grounds through the castle. The caretaker is always out on patrol you see…"

"Ah… Have you tried invisibility spells then Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore suggested, taking the boy seriously now.

"We've tried… Sir, it is just too difficult. We have to mutter the spells on ourselves and that usually attracts the caretaker and on top of that-"

"I see I see." Dumbledore said. "So you would ask for my assistance for once in this charade then would you?"

"Yes sir," James replied unabashedly.

"I would be pleased to help. When is the next full moon?"

"About a week, sir."

"I will summon you to my office within the week with a solution. I believe it will help you tremendously. You are both dismissed, and please try to stay out of any other trouble. You are both brilliant, please behave that way." Dumbledore said, and the boys left the office.

Dumbledore stared at the setting sun for a long time. He slowly got to his feet and draped his cloak about his shoulders. With a brisk pace he walked through the castle and out the front doors. He walked down the main road to the gate and there Disapparated. In a gentle whirl of his cloak he Apparated onto a small narrow cobblestone street. There were narrow sidewalks on either side, no cars, and few streetlamps. The buildings on either side of the road were close together, shops were on the bottom floors and poor apartments and flats were on the second floors. Dumbledore continued his walk down the road, a man in a tall purple hat and a long silver beard.

Children were watching some evening comedy show and laughing rigorously in an upstairs apartment. Across the street a muggle couple was yelling at each other. Dumbledore walked until he found the grimy little flower shop called "Up and Grown" and tapped on the door. Through the stained window he could see rows of pert chrysanthemums, carnations, daffodils, lilies, and even a few drooping sunflowers in earthenware pots.

The door opened slightly, but still rang the small rusted bell up in the corner to signal the arrival of customers. There in the dim light stood a beautiful woman wrapped in a gauzy blue shawl, her long tendrils of dark shiny hair falling down over her shoulders. Her emerald eyes widened at the sight of the man before her. Her beautiful red lips opened in shock and she stepped back.

"Abigail," Dumbledore said, letting the name come out over his lips reverently. He put his hand on the door to keep her from closing it. "I have not come to bring you back. If this is what you want, I will let you have it. I have only come to ask a favor." He spoke the words sharply, brokenly, as if it hurt him to speak every word.

Abigail took a moment to compose herself, and then nodded sharply. "Please come in then Albus, goodness knows you are certainly welcome here!" She stepped back even more and Dumbledore followed, closing the door behind him. Instantly the room lit up into a magnificent marble-floored foyer. Two red elegant and comfy couches sat on a woven rug facing each other before a fireplace. It took an effort but Dumbledore tore his eyes away from his wife's face long enough to inspect the room.

"This is not what the muggles see I expect?" he said lightly.

"No, they see a dingy store with a few shelves full of everyday flowers, and an old woman behind the counter." Abigail turned from him and walked towards the couches. "Please sit down Albus, make yourself comfortable." She was talking stiffly, as if to a stranger.

Albus followed her to the couches and sat down opposite her. She casually waved her hand and a tea tray appeared, heaped with lovely delicacies, a steaming pot of tea, a bottle of butterbeer and a bottle of wine. "What would you like Albus? I daresay you would like some of the wine…" Before Albus could respond she seized the bottle and began pouring herself a full glass, but before she could bring it to her lips Albus leaned over and grasped her wrist.

"Really Abbie, I don't think you should…"

Trembling, some of the wine spilling over, she set the glass down and without looking up at him said, "How did you finally find me?"

"I found out quite some time ago, Abbie. Months even. But I never had the nerve… I do not know what it was that kept me, but I have known. Your Secret-Keeper must have come to some harm?"

"She…Well it was old age, I knew it was coming. She was a nice lady from the orphanage, years and years ago. A muggle, but still very adept at keeping secrets for me." Abigail looked up, tears brimming over her eyes. Dumbledore could not tear his eyes away, even as an old man her powers were overcoming, and not just her powers…it was her love for him. Her love that she still harbored so strongly for him. "Albus…"

Abigail suddenly leapt up and deftly avoided the table as she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight and crying hard into his shoulder. He put his arms around her, amazed at how slight she was…or perhaps it was because he has lost so much of his former youthful muscle. She had cried like this once…years ago when she and he both had realized she would never have children. This was just as painful a situation. But he could not comfort her…not the way he used to. Gently he laid one of his old and knobby hands on her beautiful head.

"Abigail…please." When she did not hear he gently pulled her arms from around his neck and pushed her gently away. She seemed to collapse on herself, wrapping her arms about her and turning her head away. He could not watch; he would not. It was done, they could no longer be together as they used to and they both knew it. Slowly Abigail picked herself up and returned to her seat, waving her hand idly to remove some of the overflowing wine from her glass.

"Will…will you have some?" she asked quietly.

"I would love to, Abigail," Dumbledore said more firmly. With another wave another glass was poured and Dumbledore picked it up and raised it to her. "To our past love," he said, his voice barely trembling.

"Our love…" Abigail repeated, raising her own. She downed her glass faster than Dumbledore would have liked but he let it be. They sat in silence for a while until Abigail let out a great sigh and began to speak with more strength, but she still would not look at him. "Well…it is how we knew it would be isn't it? It was to be expected. I have many regrets though I must say. Had you taken the Elixir of Life with Flamel perhaps we would have had longer…"  
"You know I was opposed to that, Abbie, it is not natural."

"And had we been able to have children perhaps both of us would not have been so lonely the rest of these long years…"

"Abbie…"

"But I will think on these things no more. I have moved on you see. I have a flourishing flower business, with wizard folk of course, not with the muggles. I do parties, anniversaries, weddings… Anyway, I do find so much joy in my flowers. Everything blooms in my presence as I'm sure you remember? Well I have my own little greenhouse, bigger than anything the herbology professor at Hogwarts has. Would you like to see?"

Without waiting for Dumbledore to rise Abigail swiftly stood up and began walking away. Dumbledore sighed but soon followed, surprising her when he was directly behind her when she stopped in front of a set of double doors at the other side of the room. She turned away from him and pulled open the two doors, letting white light flood into their faces. Before them lay an entire gallery of plant life, ranging from enhanced muggle flowers to the most spectacular arrays of herbs and great living trees whose vines and branches reached and interweaved the entire ceiling which appeared to be made of glass. The only thing to be seen behind these panes of glass was white light that glimmered every now and then, but no sky and no scenery. Dumbledore was mightily impressed.

"My dear, this is _magical_!" he said, as he approached a cluster of head-sized flowers that leaned towards him as he came near. Abigail said nothing but led him further down this great mysterious greenhouse, if one could call it that. There were streams and small springs off to the side of the brick aisle on which they were walking. Butterflies and even small fairies zoomed from one side to the other over their heads.

"I keep only the best quality dragon fertilizer, which my little fairy friends gratefully spread for me. I've mixed a bit of my own concoctions and have had that put around the base of my trees… If you listen a long time, you can hear them whisper they are so lively." Abigail stopped and looked up at a cherry tree that was positively glistening with healthiness.

"You must have listened a long time, Abigail," Dumbledore said quietly. "Please, is there nothing else you can do but to stay so aloof from society?"

"Aloof? Oh my dear Albus, I am anything but aloof. I enjoy myself heartily at many weddings and anniversaries as I've said. Just because I arrange the floral designs does not mean I'm not invited to the festivities! Only now it's been rather quiet in business. The rumors you know…"

"Yes, I've seen Tom Riddle fairly recently. He wanted to teach at Hogwarts."

"Oh Albus…" Abigail said, turning to him, just as she had so many times during their marriage…always looking to him for council.

"I refused of course," he continued, not looking at her to save himself the pain… "I fear we may be on rather unsteady terms from now on."

"He is dangerous, Albus. I feel it. He may cause the deaths of so many; I only see pain in the future!"

"Think on it no more, Abbie. My only concern is for Hogwarts and its students. I now am comforted with the thought that I have saved it from his influence."

They were both silent awhile, listening to the water flowing and the humming wings of various little fairies. Abigail turned to him, her air that of doing business.

"You said you came to ask a favor Albus?"

"Ah yes," he said, not knowing how to begin. He knew she had worked so hard on that invisibility cloak, it was hard for him to ask to have it from her. He cleared his throat and explained the situation at Hogwarts with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and James Potter. Abigail smiled calmly. When he had finished she raised her hand and twirled her wrist. Out of thin air came the cloak swirling down into his outstretched arms.

"Anything for you Albus. You know that. I do not need such a trinket anymore; I can be invisible if I want to be all on my own. Let Mr. Potter take good care of it, I have a feeling he has something to do with the future as well. If there is anything else I can do to help…"

"Thank you, Abbie," Dumbledore said gratefully, leaning down and affording Abigail a kiss on the cheek. She turned away from him, telling him softly to leave. He nodded at her turned back.

"Oh and Albus…please do not visit often, for my sake at least," she called after him. He made a small bow and left the shop, feeling as though he had left a piece of himself behind him.

A few years passed, the boys Dumbledore had gotten to know so well graduated Hogwarts. A couple more years passed and Dumbledore celebrated the wedding of James and Lilly Potter. It was a bright occasion, one that was celebrated in the midst of great terror. Tom Riddle had become Lord Voldemort and was terrorizing all of England. Dumbledore had secretly formed a group called the Order of the Phoenix, meant to be a sort of counter-army to the allies of Lord Voldemort.

Dumbledore recognized the flower arrangements as soon as he arrived outside of James' Potter's home. The lawn was decorated with great magical flowers. He was early, about an hour before the ceremony and few people were there. It was odd how the sky was so clear today. Usually the dementors whom Voldemort controlled sent fog everywhere. He strode across the lawn to where many comfortable chairs were lined up in rows. He felt a familiar presence….and looked behind an overlarge pot of roses.

"Hello Abigail," he said as pleasantly as he could. Abigail looked up at him, startled. Had she not sensed him as well? Perhaps she was a little too busy today… She looked thin and pale, her face turning haggard for once in her life. She still looked not a day over twenty-five, but there were circles under her eyes and her hair looked as though it were thinning out a bit.

"Good day Albus. It seems James Potter has done very well hasn't he? He looks just lovely with that Lilly of his!" she replied, a little too cheerfully. He stepped forward, careful not to touch her though as he sensed it would make everything harder for her. She was still young, still prone to be passionate and emotional. He felt suddenly very old, very tired… He could no longer meet her intense and burning gazes, it was simply beyond him now, and it was killing her…


	2. Chapter 2

There was a time, which overshadowed the Potters' wedding, when the magical world was in chaos. Tom Riddle, now known as Voldemort, was wreaking havoc on magical and muggle worlds alike. Dumbledore was easily kept busy – protecting members of the Order of the Phoenix, and especially those he loved. He sent Fawkes out frequently to check on Abigail, despite her protests. Her shop appeared to be owned by a muggle – there was no telling if a Death Eater was to attack the shop.

She had seemed almost unstable when he had last seen her at the wedding. She seemed to have treated him like any other guest, or possibly a client, with the way she chattered on. Dumbledore supposed it must have been the wedding, and the painful memories it brought her.

But surprisingly, he hardly had time to think of her. Tom was out in the world, a mass murderer with his own private army. On the night Dumbledore heard about Tom's visit to Godric's Hollow (via Bathilda Bagshot's head screaming at him in his fireplace), he sent for Hagrid and his once best student, Minerva McGonagall. He gave each very specific instructions - promising to meet them later that evening at a something-Privet Drive.

He personally wanted to go see the site of the latest murder – to see how Lily and James' child fared in the destruction, but he trusted Hagrid enough to take care of little Harry, and there were plenty of magic folk appearing on the scene – according to Bathilda. He could not go, he was too important, for as soon as Bathilda's head disappeared in his fireplace, others did, including the minister of magic. He was needed almost everywhere at once. The day was a confusion of mourning and celebration for the defeated Dark Lord.

After visiting the ministry for the fifth time that day Dumbledore finally returned to his office. Fawkes crooned softly in the corner, his feathers molting and his neck drooping. Dumbledore looked away from him; the bird reminded himself too much of how he felt at that moment. Suddenly the bird burst into flame and disappeared, but it was not to transform into a new baby phoenix. In a moment the bird came back, engulfing yet another form in flame. Abigail appeared.

"What is to become of the child?" the woman demanded, before greeting her husband.

Dumbledore could not grasp at words. He had seen this woman only briefly within the last year or so, and she seemed like a withering weed. Now the same woman stood before him, hands on hips, alive with youth and energy. It was as if she had moved past a certain point in her life, as if she had resolved to be alive instead of half dead.

"Harry Potter?" she asked, "What is to become of him?" She stepped forward.

Dumbledore smiled at the woman, still young, still vibrant, still heartbreakingly beautiful.

"In a few moments I am leaving to meet with Minerva McGonagall, who has been keeping an eye on Harry's muggle relatives all day. He will live with them."

"Muggles? Oh Albus, really!" Abigal huffed impatiently. Dumbledore smiled, he liked seeing her old mannerisms back and in full force.

"It is the only way, Abbie," he said gently, still smiling, "Harry's mother died for him. He is safest within the presence of that blood. And his aunt just happens to be muggleborn."

"Ah, well..if that is the case," she replied, calming herself. "But he _will _be admitted to Hogwarts?"

"Of _course_!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "That boy.. that boy is special. I haven't time to talk about it now, my dear, but I will return within the hour if you would care to wait?"

"Yes, I'll wait," Abigail said, walking over to Fawkes and rubbing his head. She was completely at ease, as if they had all the time in the world together. He would have to ask her about her transformation, but later. He made ready to go, and before he reached the door Abigail called out to him and threw something to him. It was like a silver pen, or a cross between a lighter and a pen. "A client of mine gave it to me ages ago," she explained. "I meant to give it to you ages ago too. I knew you would like it to add to your collection of uh..well collectables," she said, eyeing the miscellaneous silver and steaming instruments across the room.

Dumbledore smiled at her gratefully, and clicked the little lighter in his hand. The fire and the light from his desk lamp zoomed into the lighter like round balls of light flying through the air. He clicked it again, and the lights were restored.

"I knew you would have fun with it," she said knowingly at the ridiculous grin on his face.

Abigail never really spoke about her transformation, even when he pressed her. All he could conclude was that she had settled into the life that they had chosen – living apart from one another with the occasional visit. Only now, she visited as much as she could, almost without any trace of pain in her expression. He could not tell if it was an improvement on those endless years of separation or not. While _she_ may be suddenly content to live this way, _he_ was still feeling those intense pangs. But he never let her know, no more than she let him know, of his feelings.

The following years seemed to go past quickly, more quickly than even those years when Abigail and Dumbledore were happily married and living together. He watched the Potter boy grow with interest, aware of his purpose in defeating or being defeated by Tom Riddle. And Abigail watched too, also knowing what lay in store for the boy.

Abigail helped him where and when she could. She assisted him in finding mandrake seeds for Professor Sprout the year that the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and students were becoming petrified. She helped to recruit special magical creatures for a Triwizard Tournament hosted at Hogwarts. And she strode into the forest at Albus's side to help recruit a centaur to teach Divination, to keep Harry Potter's seer from leaving Hogwarts.

When Dumbledore started to learn of Horcruxes, the items with pieces of Voldemort's soul in them, he became engrossed in finding ways to destroy Voldemort. If he could not do it himself, then he had to make the way clear for Harry Potter. He hardly visited Abigail during this time, since he was so set on discovering them, but one night he came to her door, hiding a blackened and shriveled hand in his robes.

"Let me see it, _now_ Albus," she snapped at him, holding out her hand. He was sitting in one of her comfortable chairs, trying to explain about Marvolo's ring – the Horcrux that had nearly destroyed him.

He reluctantly extended his hand, and she took it in hers without a trace of revulsion.

"Snape did an excellent job containing the curse," she said.

"I wouldn't have expected anything less from him," Dumbledore replied, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He could not feel the touch of her hand from his dead one. Would it always be like this? Having her there, but never being able to be close to her again?

"But.. Albus, the damage. You must tell me everything Snape told you. How.. how bad is it, really?"

He could not look at her. He could easily imagine the pain slipping back onto her face, her youthful appearance taking on the look of someone undergoing the cruciatus curse. After a long pause, he sucked in a breath to tell her the truth.

"I'll have a year left at most, Abbie,"

The silence stretched for so long that he had to open his eyes. Her hands were frozen on his withered one, and her face was blank. Nothing. There was nothing in her. An empty shell.

"Abbie?"

There was still nothing. He reached forward with his other hand, and dared so much as to cup her cheek and stroke it with his thumb, tilting her head up toward him. Her eyes did not focus for a moment, but when they did, he almost wished they never had. They were the eyes of someone facing something worse than death itself - the death of a loved one.

"Oh, Albus," she murmured, and she let go of his hand to hold his face in her palms. They stayed like that a long time, their eyes communicating endless years of pain, misery, and longing.

"I'll die if you die, you know that," she finally whispered.

"You can't die, love," he replied, shaking his head.

"It'll be a different death for me. I'll give my soul, my body, my mind to the forest.. I think I have the power to do that."

"Like that one time I found you in the forest?" Dumbledore asked, the hazy memory coming to mind. He remembered her beautiful form, abstract and almost blending into her surroundings – a true part of the forest.

"Something like that, yes."

"I don't want you to live like that, Abigail, you can contribute so much, help our world-"

"It will mean nothing to me without you, Albus. I should have been human, oh _why_ couldn't I have been human!" she cried, throwing herself into his arms. It was not the first time she had said such things. He held her silently.

The next months were desperate as his time ran out. He was caught between his desire to fill his eyes with Abigail and the desire to rid the world of Lord Voldemort, and to ensure Harry Potter's survival. In an odd way he saw Harry Potter as his own son, perhaps his and Abigail's because of her involvement. There was an intense need to protect the boy at all costs. Dumbleodore wanted to ask Abigail to watch over Harry when he was gone, but he could not bring himself to ask. He did not know what state she would be in when he left. Already her mask of complete peace and happiness with him and their relationship was slipping.

Finally, one night as he stood looking out at the setting sun, contemplating a journey that would prove perilous enough to take his life before expected, Abigail appeared in his office. He had thought of going to visit her before he summoned Harry Potter for their mission, and was relieved when she arrived.

"I had such a feeling, Albus!" she said breathlessly, releasing Fawke's tail and coming towards him. "What is going on? Is it time?" She looked at his hand tucked deep into his sleeve.

"No, love, it isn't. Not _just_ yet anyway," he replied. He was feeling his age in every bone in his body. For the first time since their separation, he held out his arms for her, and she gratefully entered them.

"But you are about to do something.. A horcrux?"

"Yes, I've located one, and I am going to take Harry Potter with me. The boy has to learn what is involved, so he can finish the process. He is the only one."

"I understand," she said softly, leaning her head against his thin shoulder. They stood like that for a very long time before she spoke again. "I feel like this will be..the last time."

"I pray that it isn't, my dear, but your feelings have always been accurate."

He sighed and pulled her away just enough to loop her arm through his and lead her across the room. "I have a final gift for you. It is not much, in the great scheme of things, but I would never forgo a chance to bring you happiness, even for a moment."

She looked up at him quizzically, but did not comment. He brought her to his shelf of silver instruments, all ticking and whizzing and steaming. He took out a hand-sized silver and glass instrument that looked like a sun dial. Ancient runes were market around its semi-polished surface. She looked at it, and then at him for an explanation.

"My own secret time-turner," he said, and gave her a wan smile.

"Albus!" she breathed, her eyes snapping wide open. "What..what do you mean to do?"

"Nothing that spectacular, love, I assure you," he said, eager to forestall her thinking, "We are not going back in time, or changing any course in our fates. Nothing can stop that. What I _can_ offer you is approximately three hours.. in the presence of a rather more handsome, roguish, and _younger _husband than the one you have now."

"But..it's still _you_, Albus," she said, backing away from the time turner. "I'm with you now." She was confused.

"I can offer you one last..uh, well, reunion, before I die, Abigail," he said, and despite his age and wisdom, he looked slightly abashed. She smiled despite herself and hugged him again.

"Thank you then, Albus. I gladly accept!"

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, lingering a moment. Then he straightened, and turned the dial on the time turner.

"This is a peculiar time-turner - it functions much like a portkey, only one travels through time. Now if I remember correctly, I was out in the forest moping and feeling sorry for myself. It was not too long after you left, and I didn't think I would see you again. You should be able to find me out there."

"But what should I say-"

"Say whatever comes to mind - _I_ cannot tell you. All I know is that it will work out. It _did_ work out, since it's already happened, but I daresay if we keep thinking about it we'll only get a headache. I think I have one already," he teased.

"I'll come back here?" she asked.

"Yes, be sure to get back to my office. I'll still be here. I daresay it will only be a matter of minutes for me. Now go," he said, and pushed the time turner into her hands.

The room dissolved around her, and appeared again with early afternoon light streaming in through the windows. The office was a mess. Papers littered the floor, and a few of the silver instruments lay broken and scattered under her feet. The forest. Dumbledore had said he was to be found in the forest. Without thinking she dropped the time-turner, and ran out of the office. It must have been summer – there were no students, no teachers in the corridors. She almost ran into a ghost, but dodged it by running down a side passageway.

She ran across the lawns, past Hagrid's hut where he whittled happily at a flute. She cast a disillusionment charm over herself so that he would not notice her, and took it off when she entered the shade of the forest. She had not long to look before she saw Dumbledore, a middle-aged man with is beard trimmed short, leaning his head against a tree and weeping. Suddenly time meant nothing. She ran at him with renewed energy, despite a stitch in her side and her short breath.

He turned and caught her.

"Abigail! What? I thought –"

"Get a time-turner in the years to come! I'll need it later!" she laughed, embracing him.

"You mean you came back from-?"

But she didn't let him finish. She began kissing him feverishly and ferociously, as if she had finally found water after years and years of searching in a dry desert, always expecting to never find it again.

The sun inched in the sky and Abigail tried to block it out from her sight. It reminded her of her time limit. This younger Dumbledore seemed to sense that her time was limited, and his desperation matched hers. The air was warm and pleasant, and they sensed the breeze and the sunlight despite their preoccupations.

Abigail finally had just enough sense left to realize that her time was over. She pulled away from Albus and he tried to pull her back.

"I have to go," she said firmly. He looked agonized as he watched her retrieve her robes. "I have to get back to your office." When he realized she was at least going as far as that, he quickly joined her, and they both ran, with hands clasped, back into the castle. The time-turner lay where she had dropped it among the pieces of his destroyed instruments.

"You need to clean, Albus," she said softly, and he laughed. He pulled her close to kiss her again, they sunk to a kneeling position on the floor.

"I don't think I can go on.." he murmured, kissing her chin.

"You'll find me again," she promised. "This is only the last time..for me.."

He pulled her against him hard, as if to reassure her that he would be right there. She reached out her hand and pulled the time-tuner towards her, peeking at the dial that was nearly back on the rune that it had started on before Dumbledore had turned it.

"I must go, but know that you'll find me again,"

"And what about you?"

She reached up and kissed him.

"I suppose I'll have one last memory."

And then the room dissolved.

The old Dumbledore was kneeling on the floor when she returned to the present, as if ready to catch her. He held her as she lay in his thin arms, looking down at her flushed face and tousled hair. He grinned knowingly and she smiled bashfully up at him. After a moment he stroked her hair.

"I've had that memory as well, my love," he said softly. "All memories of you I have kept, and will take with me, to the very end."

The arrows shot far over the white tomb. There were many present to honor the deceased Headmaster, and Abigail was glad of that. She stood at the very back of the assembly, covered head to foot in a dark blue cloak. She had been only mildly surprised at the emotion, or lack thereof, that she had felt when she approached Dumbledore's broken body at the base of the tower. No one had questioned her presence, or even noticed her.

Since that day she had felt nothing anymore. That last afternoon with Dumbledore, both the young and old one, had been her last connection with humanity, with feelings and emotions. From then on she had let everything go. Today, she was almost completely gone, and the forest beckoned to her. But she had to at least be there for the funeral, to pay the last respects of a wife, a widow. It would be her last human act.

The crowd broke up after a while, and the chairs were cleared. A black-haired boy with spectacles walked off and was confronted by two other teenagers, his friends it seemed. She looked at the three of them, knowing that Dumbledore had had plans for each of them in the time to come. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, in that moment seemed someone who she could live for, even in the shadows. She and Dumbledore had watched over him for these last years. For a moment she considered staying to help him, to guide him, but she knew she was too far spent. Her human life was over.

She had stayed too long. Abigail pulled her cloak a bit closer, and walked slowly and delicately past the great tomb, reaching out to brush her fingers along its cold stone edge, reveling in those last sensations of touch.

And then she was no more. Her soul, her mind, her senses, they all became part of the forest, and she entered it gratefully.

And only her heart stayed behind.

-The End-


End file.
